A/N: this was originally part of chapter one, when it was intended as a one-shot, so you may have read it before.

:)

Luigi's was in silence as the two detectives made their way, hand in hand, across the road. The autumn night was damp and chill: under the orange glow of a streetlight, the Quattro sat, beaded with raindrops and stripped of its colour. Long shadows moved across it as Alex and Gene passed by. As the restaurant was closed, they had to turn the corner and go up the main staircase.

When they were inside the flat, Alex turned on the table lamp and sat down on the couch. She took off her white leather jacket and boots and, curling her feet up under her, leaned back on the cushions.

"I'm just gonna… um," Gene mumbled, nodding his head in the direction of the bathroom. Alex smiled and slowly closed her eyes. As he walked past the kitchen, Gene glanced at the clock – it was now after two thirty in the morning and he was very tired. He remembered that the sofa in Luigi's flat was comfy enough, but then again, he had crashed onto it in a drunken stupor. Regardless, he looked forward to resting his body.

Gene stared at his reflection. He doused his face with cool water and thought hard. He was torn: on the one hand he wanted to walk through and take Alex in his arms; to seek access to her inner world; to reassure her that she was safe. But he knew there was something else: that he was close to giving up the fight to conceal his desire for her. The playful flirting had taken him as far as he could and now, with alarming frequency, came thoughts of her naked body entwined with his in passionate embrace. He knew he wasn't fooling himself that there was lust in the way she looked at him but… well, after a few glasses of red he knew it wasn't necessarily just him. There was a sudden rise of jealousy as he remembered her extolling the virtues of her night with the 'Thatcherite wanker'. He swallowed it down quickly and turned to open the bathroom door.

On the couch meanwhile, Alex had drifted into a light sleep, fighting through her jumbled thoughts. Gene in 2008, an astral visitor in a strange time – the notion would have been laughable were it not so confusing. She hadn't told him about the nightmare she'd been having earlier on, before she went across to CID. She was back on the riverside, facing down Arthur Layton - only this time, her father in his deathly clown mask was standing behind the gunman, holding Molly in his arms. She had awoken, crying, calling for Gene to help her. As she sat trembling, she had wished so much he had been there that day. An armed bastard, she half smiled to herself – Layton wouldn't have stood a chance.

She felt safe now, knowing he was near her. The unspoken desire between them, however, put her slightly on edge. Alex wanted so much to be close to him, to feel his weight and the steady beat of his heart against her. She wondered if she could keep up her pretence of wry indifference any longer. If I see that pout one more time I will surely kiss him.

Gene closed the bathroom door quietly and stepped through to the living room. He watched Alex for a moment, marvelling at her peaceful beauty – he didn't wish to disturb her but he knew she would be far more comfortable in her bed. He moved towards her and crouching by the sofa, softly said her name. Alex moaned a little. Her eyes didn't open but, like a small child, she reached out an arm and placed it around Gene's neck. Gently, he slid his arms underneath her and lifted her up. She nuzzled her face against his cheek and clasped her arm tighter, holding onto him as he carried her through to her room.

In Alex's bedroom, the venetian blinds were half open: beams from outside split the room into dark and light as he made his way to the bed, lowering her languid body as carefully as he could onto the red duvet. He stood for a moment, debating whether or not to remove her clothes, eventually deciding that the sight of her in only her underwear was really not what he needed right now. The feeling of her breath on his neck as he carried her had already almost been his undoing.

He turned on his heel, fighting the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her awake, and began to make his way to his bed on the sofa. He'd reached the bedroom door before a small voice said, "Don't leave me, please."

It was all the invitation he needed. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots and socks off. Slowly, he removed his tie and wrapped it around his fist. Alex placed her hand on the small of his back, stroking him through his shirt. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder, his mouth dry at the look on her face.

Alex shifted over, her back to him - taking his hand, she wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled his body close to hers. He curled around her; conscious he was hard against her and trying to calm himself in his mind. They needed to sleep now, he knew that and he was just thankful they were this close. He moved his head beside hers on the pillow, her soft curls surrounded him in the clean scent of berries: he gently kissed her neck, dragging his lips across her skin and feeling her shiver a little. Her hand held his tighter and he stroked her with his thumb, their grip gradually loosening as sleep claimed them both. The nightmares stayed away.

It was 6 am when Alex woke, the pale yellow sun fell on the pillow beside her and she reached a hand to her eyes, rousing Gene with the movement. Almost without waking, he lifted his arm, allowing her to wriggle round to face him. She lay for like this for a while, gazing at his closed eyes; taking in the details of his rugged features. His eyelashes are so long, she thought. His lips were slightly parted, inviting a kiss. Bravely, Alex leaned forward and softly placed her mouth on his.

Immediately Gene responded with enthusiasm, their mouths moved together for several minutes before he opened his eyes and broke their kiss. He smiled shyly at her, "Mornin' Bolly."

Alex smiled back. She took her left hand and stroked his face, enjoying the feeling of his stubble on the pad of her thumb.

"Here you are," she breathed.

He turned his face and kissed her palm. "Yes, here I am." He glanced down where they lay, still on top of the duvet, still fully clothed. "Looking to all intents and purposes as though I've been dragged through an 'edge bloody backwards," He murmured, referring to his crumpled shirt and trousers. His feet felt like ice.

There was silence for what seemed like an age. They were both trying to gauge the situation, foolishly using their heads instead of their hearts. There was really no denying the passion in that good-morning kiss, as was evidenced by the growing heat between Alex's legs and the obvious beginnings of an erection for Gene.

Alex broke the silence first. "DCI Hunt, " she whispered, "What are we doing here?" She continued, taking a deep breath. " I mean, I have to be honest here, I don't know how much longer I can lie here next to you without making love to you." She bit her lip, a little shocked at her own frankness, but he just looked back at her, his blue eyes darkening.

"You know I have wanted that for longer than I care to remember Alex." The use of her first name made her stomach leap. "I just…"

The end of his sentence was lost as Alex's lips crashed onto his own. Their kiss was urgent and deep and each savoured the sensation: this intimate contact for which they had both longed. In no time, they were naked: in thought, in deed and before one another. Gene's hands tangled in her hair as Alex moved over him: her breasts crushed against his chest, she slid down onto him. She gave herself away as she looked intently in his eyes; his pupils like black holes.

They rocked their bodies together. Alex fell forward onto his chest, her mouth roaming his neck. Gene's hands were on her back, now her hips, pulling her onto him. Suddenly everything went black – she had placed the palms of her hands over his eyes, rendering him blind as their mouths met once more.

London swam before him… the river winding lazily out of sight…buildings of steel and glass and grey… thousand of human figures walked past him, intently speaking into their little black boxes. Across the bridge, the Houses of Parliament were partially obscured by a giant white ferris wheel. It looked like a space ship. His mind was filled with stars.

Alex dipped her hips, drawing him into her. Her heart felt it would burst out of her chest as ground against him. He pushed himself up until he was sitting cross-legged with her in his lap. He held her close to him as her hands left his eyes and wandered through his hair. He opened his eyes, but was unable to focus, so he let his eyelids fall and pressed his cheek to her breasts, her heart was machine gun fire…

The sound turned to fireworks… the sky was dark and London was bathed in multi-coloured lights… the air was crisp and cold… Winter? Where the east end docklands used to be, magnesium and gunpowder exploded in the sky over a huge dome shaped building, people everywhere… drinking and cheering "Happy New Millennium!"… and overhead a silver jet trailed a banner of light…it read "2000".

Alex held her lover to her, kissing the top of his head. She cradled his face in her hands as their rhythm slowed slightly. "Y'ok?" she whispered breathlessly. He looked up at her, his eyes wide. "So… beautiful…. Alex," he panted, "It's …. So…"

A sunny warm spring day… Hyde Park… a baby boy gazed adoringly at his mother as she fed him, nearby an older child balanced on the back of a wooden bench and called to her mum, "Look at me!"… In the distance, a red bus grumbled past: on its side, "Olympic City 2012"…a man approached the scene, carrying ice creams in his hands… beautiful hazel eyes met his own as the woman smiled up at him… "It seems your son has inherited your appetite, Gene…"

"Oh Gene! …" She called his name as she swayed against him; her body gripped him tighter with each tiny second that passed, "Yessss…. Come with me! Oh come with me… oh!" She shook and convulsed around him, her rhythm causing him to let out a hoarse yell as he came inside her. Each was holding the other's face in their hands as their mouths met in an exhausted kiss.

Gene and Alex lay, a tangled mess of limbs and deep breaths. Gene pulled the duvet over both of them and shifted round to face her, brushing a stray curl from her eyes. He could barely pluck up the courage to ask her but then the words came tumbling out. "Where do you come from Alex… really? How come you're here? I mean… you put in for a transfer… " He swallowed, "here."

She frowned slightly. He noticed the way her nose wrinkled at the top when she did, and it made him love her all the more.

"I can't tell you that Gene," she said softly, "I really, really wish I could." She paused for a moment, watching him as a look of frustration and confusion crept over his face.

"You don't know? Or you won't tell me?" He looked hurt.

"I… I... " She faltered.

He was so elated at what had transpired between them: that finally they seem to have realised what they meant to one another: that they had made love and it had been utterly amazing. The images in his mind infuriated and intrigued him in equal measure.

"OK here's a daft question for you Bolly," he forced a smile out between his jumbled emotions. "Will London host the Olympic Games in two thousand and twelve?" The words made him almost laugh, they sounded so ridiculous. 2012 - a futuristic empire that would surely never come. And even if it did, he'd be 71 years old and undoubtedly pickled in a bar somewhere on the Costa Brava.

Alex's frown deepened. "How could you possibly know that?" Suddenly there was urgency in her voice. She sat up and kneeled on the bed next to him, placing her hands on his chest. "Gene, listen to me… How do you know that? That hasn't happened yet! It's over thirty years from now, a new millennium!"

"What, so it's true!" he exclaimed, "The thing is Bols, how do you know?!"

"I was there!" she cried, "I was there, at the announcement party, with Molly. And Evan."

"Evan?!" Gene sat up now, eyes blazing. "Evan White?" he sneered the lawyer's name.

Alex grabbed Gene's hand: her mind was racing. Is Gene the key to my getting home? Is he real and alive in 2008 when I get shot? "Yes, Evan White!" her voice was raised now. "I promise you Gene, I PROMISE you it's not what you think! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!" Tears welled in her eyes, prompting Gene to soften and grasp her hand tighter.

"Bolly, calm down fer Christ's sake." He tried to soothe her, but her simply didn't know what to do next.

"Gene," Alex said, stricken. "How did you know about that? You have to tell me, I can't begin to explain how important it is… I …" A dry sob racked her chest.

Gene took a deep breath, feeling very foolish for what he was about to say. "A dream, Alex. No, a vision - just images, I dunno, in my mind. They came to me, just then. When we made love." His face was flushed as he looked at her anxiously.

Alex shook her head. "How?"

"I don't KNOW!" he answered. "It were nonsense. There was an enormous fairground wheel on the river, by the Parliament. People everywhere, with those white box things, with the wires. Fireworks… It was New Year. 2000."

"Please go on," Alex whispered, dumbstruck.

Gene closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "Then it changed. It was sunny: in the park. There was a woman there, with a young girl, playing on a bench by the pond. She had a baby…" He paused as his voice cracked slightly. "My son."

"Your son?"

"Yeah."

Alex's gaze fell as one small tear escaped the corner of her eye. Then she felt Gene's hand cup her chin, as he lifted her gaze to his. Somehow she knew what was coming.

"The woman… it was you, Alex." He whispered, looking straight in her eyes.

Some twenty minutes later, emotionally and physically exhausted, the two were gently dozing. Alex lay in Gene's arms, her head one side of his chest and her palm resting on the other, their legs intertwined. So many unanswered questions lingered between them, but it seemed that everything else mattered less, as long as they were together. Now or in the past or even in the future, whenever that was. Real or not, he was the key to something. And besides, she was in love with him.

She felt Gene's head move and his lips touch the top of her hair. She didn't know what to think anymore.

She spoke, almost soundlessly. "We each inhabit two worlds, Gene – the real world and the end of the world."

There was silence. The pale autumn sun continued to burn in the sky and, in the street, London was wide-awake.

"The question is Bolly… which one is this?"