"Gene!"

As soon as Molly had shrieked from her bedroom, Gene had been running through to hold her, whispering reassurance as he wrapped her up in warmth and safety, his hands a little haven for the girl as she fell asleep on his lap, her head nuzzled into the base of his neck. He hadn't been able to sleep before that; every time his eyes closed he heard the low rumble of tyres approaching him, inches from his body, the air slamming into him and toppling him like a domino as brakes cawed shrilly all around him, the repulsive cry of metal being crushed making the din into a deathly duet. And each time he would wake with a shudder, his own arms jerking out to hold a Molly who wasn't there. But of course he didn't tell her that. The Manc Lion didn't get scared about a mere near miss, and he certainly didn't have nightmares.

At least, that was what he told himself as he snuck back through to his room, leaving Molly to sleep peacefully, seeing the picture of himself and Alex on the windowsill and giving a small smile. She would've noticed the bruises on his back and the chewed-up skin on his knees by now; he almost missed her not being there to mother him. He glimpsed the Quattro on the drive outside, looking forlorn. He'd get a new wheel tomorrow: tonight he'd had to be there for Molly.

The clock on the table, which he'd figured out how to set the alarm on, told him sternly that it was two in the morning. He'd have to get up in five hours and begin another day of being her caregiver.

So far he'd done a pretty crap job. Made her late for school, had an argument with her, almost got himself killed in front of her. A little lead weight of hopelessness sank into his stomach as he thought of her sobbing form clutching him by the side of the road, his whole body hurting as the lorry driver got out to check he was OK. Blind git. But Gene had been the one stupid enough to try and change the wheel next to a dual carriageway.

I was a good metre and a half away from the road. And clearly visible. The Quattro isn't exactly bloody inconspicuous!

And yet it made no difference. Every time Gene thought about the incident, he blamed himself. He'd nearly got himself hurt and marooned Molly in a screwed-up world on her own. He sat down on the edge of the bed with a huff, letting himself fall back and ignoring the pain in his back.

"Gene?"

A timid voice from the doorway made him look round. Molly was stood there, her hands clutching her pillow, her eyes large and beguiling in the dim light from the window.

"Molls? Why aren't yer in bed?"

Molly didn't reply, just walked over and snuggled down next to him, winding her arms round him as if to shield him from the world outside, just as he had done for her. Gene let her, pulling her up to rest her head on the pillows on Alex's side of the bed; she shifted her head to lie on his chest instead, breathing in his scent, the smells that had come to mean safety and paternal love to her, snuggling up in Alex's duvet. Gene shifted his own duvet up onto himself, nestling down into the mattress, feeling its softness beginning to soothe his aches and pains and Molly's warm body snuggled against his.

"Night, Molls," he said softly, thinking she wouldn't hear, stroking her hair back with his free hand.

"Night, Dad," Molly murmured as she drifted off into sleep, safe beside one of the two people in this world who really meant reassurance to her.

Gene's eyes snapped open as he turned to stare at the young girl sleeping beside him, blissfully oblivious to his surprise. Had she just called him... Dad?

Molly smiled into his shoulder as if to confirm his thoughts.

She's 'alf asleep, she didn' mean it. Doesn' know what she's sayin'. 'Er real dad's a long way away, she's just not aware o' wha' she's sayin'.

But nevertheless, the old icy heart in the Manc Lion's chest thawed considerably as he fell asleep next to Molly, snuggled up with the teenager he knew he loved every bit as much as her mother.

In Belfast, Alex was worried.

Gene hadn't phoned her since the brief call to his office that day, to spur him into going and picking Molly up and find out how the two of them were. She'd made Gene promise on the day of her departure that he'd phone every evening, at about eight, to give her a brief overview of the day and let her speak to Molly (who she missed fiercely) for a few minutes, but there hadn't been a thing from him today and she couldn't sleep.

"They wouldn't be awake at two in the morning, Alex, there's no point ringing," she told herself, eyeing the phone on her bedside table. The swanky hotel she was staying in was certainly deluxe for 1983, although it didn't have a patch on her own home; that said, she wished she could take the butler home with her, but the hotel wouldn't be too happy about that. She giggled into her pillows, but the mirth turned once again into anxiety as the phone flashed in the moonlight.

Ring them? Risk waking the famously not-morning-person Gene up? Or stay here with unease festering in the pit of her stomach?

Her fingers had grasped the handset and dialled her home number before she fully registered what she was doing.

Five rings in and she wondered if anyone was ever going to pick up; her hand was hovering over the receiver when Gene's groggy voice finally came through.

"'Ello?"

"Gene, it's me. I'm sorry for ringing this early, but you didn't ring me and I was- I was just worried."

"Don' worry about it, Bolls. An' we were gettin' a lift 'ome, we 'ad, er, an incident on the way back."

"An incident?"

Alex gripped the handset so tightly Gene's voice went crackly for a second before she loosed her grip.

"The Quattro 'ad a puncture on a dual carriageway, I got out ter change it an' got taken out by a lorry. They crushed the spare wheel an' knocked me over, Molls was fine, she was in the car. We 'ad ter get a lift back but 'ad ter stay wi' the Quattro until the recovery service came an' so someone 'ad ter stay with it ter keep it safe while we went an' rang someone, so we didn' get 'ome till nine 'cos o' the bloody recovery idiots pissin' about."

"Are you OK?"

"Cuts an' bruises. Molly was worse off, screamin' like a demented thin', she thought I was dead."

Alex's heart went out to her daughter; she could well imagine how terrified Molly would be of losing Gene. A familiar splinter of remembered agony went through her as she remembered the months of pain when she'd lost him; from the silence on the other end, it seemed Gene was having the same thoughts.

"OK. I'll be home soon, remember.

"Phew. I'm not cut out fer this lookin'-after-kids thing."

Alex smiled to herself. Part of volunteering for this summit had been to show Gene how good a parent he really wad to Molly. Her plan would work, she was sure of it- and no stupid lorry driver would muck it up.

As they quietly said goodbye, both returning to their respective beds, both of their hearts ached.

A/N: Bit longer than I intended, but hey ho... thanks for reading, and please remember to review. Ooh, Mum's cooking quiche and chips! *drools all over keyboard* Damnit... Jazzola :)