Half a week later, Gene was back in the office, still rather stiff, but at least glad to be back at work. He had recovered slowly, one day at a time. He gradually regained his ability to sit up without aid, then to stand and finally to walk without pain. Though his back gave the odd twinge now and again, he now fully considered himself to be back in top working order.

True to her word, Alex had kept quiet about the real reason for Gene's absence, and had continued to maintain the Devon façade. As a result, Gene had been forced to make up a whole bank of complicated stories to satisfy his team's inquiries.

"Did you enjoy your holiday sir?" Shaz had said, greeting him pleasantly upon the day of his return

"Yeah. Thank you Granger." Gene had replied shortly, trying to convey with his tone of voice a wish that she did not peruse the matter. Unfortunately, Shaz did not take the hint.

"Devon was it? Were you with your family?"

"No."

"Were you on your own then, sir?"

"No."

"Ahh, with friends then? "

"Granger, will you stop giving me the third-bloody-degree about my holiday! Just sod off for a bit will you?"

Upon entering the office, Chris and Ray's stony expressions told Gene that they were more likely to start giving each other makeovers than pleasantly ask him about his 'holiday' at this particular moment in time.

"Oh. And here's 'imself." Muttered Ray.

"What's that Carling?" Snapped Gene.

"Sorry Guv, but where the hell 'ave you been?"

"Why don't you mind your own bloody business?" Gene said, dangerously, advancing upon Ray. Ray was clearly not to be put down that morning, for he stood up from his desk, and squared his shoulders.

"If it were any of us who just buggered off without sayin' anything, you'd bloody kill us!"

"Do I have to explain myself to you DI Carling?" spat Hunt.

"No offence like, Guv" piped up Chris, "But you did leave us high and dry. A bit."

"Piss off." Gene turned on his heel and stamped towards his office, slamming the door, causing the blinds to tremble with the force of it.

"Twat." muttered Ray.

"Leave him alone Ray." Alex said calmly from over the other side of the room. Ray turned on her:

"What? He just went AWOL and expects us to just accept it!"

Alex looked at Ray, knowing that in his position she would feel exactly the same way. She was the only one in the room who knew the real reason for Gene's absence, and didn't know why she and Gene had just expected him to be able to come back, no questions asked.

"I'll talk to him." She said, standing up from her desk and crossing to Gene's office. She knocked tentatively. Immediately, Gene's voice issued from within:

"Fuck off."

Rolling her eyes, Alex pushed the door and entered the office, letting the door close behind her. Gene sat, elbows on the desk and forehead resting on the heels of his hands.

"Alright Bolls?" He murmured.

"They were always going to be angry."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…hard…you know?" She murmured her ascent just as Ray popped his head round the door.

"Blag. Post office. Chisley Street, if you're not planning on sodding of to Cornwall or 'owt."

The Quattro roared into life as Gene revelled in the aggressive driving techniques he had so missed during his time at Alex's flat. His soul felt free as he nearly knocked over an old lady, he felt ten years younger as he neglected his brakes and used a crowd of metal dustbins as a rudimentary stopping device. Gene was back behind the wheel of the Quattro and finally felt he was back where he belonged. God, he loved that car. Beautiful. It had just the right shape, went like sugar off a shovel and stuck to the road like shit to a blanket. And that paintwork…it just said 'the bloke who drives this car is a god. He's got unfaultable taste and a cock of such a size it's a wonder he fits it beneath the dashboard.'

Reluctantly, Gene slammed the car door shut at the post office, and walked towards the building with Ray, Chris and Alex. All four took out their guns and began to load them.

"Right." said Gene, "Post Office blag. Easy. We can be in, out and back in time for tea. Come on lads."

The usual 'Yes Guv' chorused from all around, although the mutinous look which Ray cast him did not escape Gene's attention. He carried on, however as if it had, and led the officers into the building.

It was the usual type of scene: terrified customers, terrified staff and three men running about with stockings on their heads. Luckily, they had caught the robbers off guard, guns hanging limply by their sides. It was clear that these three men were far than professional. They were able to make the arrests quickly and without incident. Gene cuffed one of the men, ripping the improvised mask from his head, and looked upon the face of his most recent detainee.

With sickening recognition, Gene placed where he had seen that face before. That night, one of the junkies he had tried to arrest, resulting in his back injury. The man leered at him:

"Ahh, it's you isn't it? How's your back Grandad? Don't over-exert yourself, will you? Bet you had to have a few days off. Didn't know cripples could be coppers these days." Gene silenced him with a punch to the stomach and, avoiding the eyes of his colleagues, dragged the man outside. Handing the man over to a uniformed police officer, Gene got into the Quattro, pressed the accelerator and drove away at high speed.

Just his bloody luck. Now his entire team knew. They'd never look at him the same way again. How could he still be the Man Lion if he was doing his back in every five minutes? Gene had a fleeting image of himself limping after a criminal, waving a walking stick and shouting. The thought made him feel, if possible, even more emasculated.

Perhaps he just had to accept that he was, in fact, getting on, getting older.

The Quattro screeched to a halt down a deserted road as Gene had a sudden thought. Here he was, leaving his team again, and this time it was voluntary. What would they think of him then? Running off like a nancy every time a blagger gave him lip?

No. He had to go back. Face the music, whatever that music may be.