A/N: I promised I'd get another bit up soonish, and I have. Thank you for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this bit. There is more to come, promise. But I haven't decided if it's all going to be part of this, or if it will form a sequel.Either way, it will be with you soon :)
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What happened after then happened so fast that Alex couldn't keep up. One minute she was trying to wake Chris up, still leaning against a radiator, the next she was being scooped up into strong, safe arms and being carried away. She couldn't work out if she'd passed out or if it really had been that quick. When Hunt put her back down in the hallway, however, she managed to piece things together a little better – the scum bag that Ray was currently standing on helped the matter, as did the one who was out cold in the kitchen doorway.
Alex let out a sigh of relief, looking at Hunt with wide, scared eyes. He had always been the one to save her – even, if she was willing to think about it, when she was a child – and she'd known somewhere inside her that he was capable of doing it again. She closed her eyes, leaning close to him, his arm still wrapped protectively around her waist.
"Is Chris alright?" she whispered.
"I'm fine ma'am," a voice said from behind her, and she looked over to find him nursing a cut on his forehead, but otherwise fine.
"'ow 'bout you Bolls, you okay?"
Alex nodded, "I'll be fine. Nothing a good night's sleep won't handle."
"And 'ave you been getting that? Sleep, I mean," Gene asked, his voice suddenly softer, taking her by surprise.
"...no," she admitted, "I will though."
She uncurled herself from him and reviewed the scene. The man in the kitchen was still unconscious, and the one under Ray's boot was struggling and swearing, but otherwise taken care of. Why did she still feel like something was wrong? Shrugging it off, she followed as Hunt dragged the unconscious man towards the front door.
As they got outside, she finally realized what was wrong.
"Gene..." she said, a hint of urgency in her voice, which he seemingly ignored.
He was too busy throwing the limp body of his suspect into the back of the Quattro.
"Gene!" she said again, louder.
"What Bolls? Can't yer see I'm busy?"
Alex glanced around the street, "Gene... there were three. Three men. We've only got two..."
"What?!"
"There were three!" she shrieked, turning round, looking for where the other one could have gotten to.
They searched the scene, but wherever Langley had gone, it was far enough away from them that they couldn't track him down.
-
It felt wrong to be celebrating that evening in Luigi's. Alex seemed not to be the only one who felt that way, as moments after she'd sat down at her usual table, Gene Hunt was joining her.
"Don't mind do yer?" he slurred slightly, unceremoniously dumping another glass of red wine in front of her, and lager in front of himself.
"No of course not Gene. I uh..." she looked down into her half empty glass and then back up at him, "I wanted to say thank you. For saving me. Again."
"s'all right Bolls. I've come used to it," he picked up his drink and gulped down a mouthful.
They sat in silence for a while, as they often did. There was something comforting about just being in each other's company that meant they had no need for talking. Arguing, they did a lot of, however. And it was the arguing that made way for the comfortable silence. Arguing which made Hunt's heart race and Alex's body ache for something she couldn't identify. Or at least didn't want to identify. It was too complicated – she couldn't get attached to this world, or anyone in it. It would just make it harder to leave. She knew that now. And she knew that the next time they had that leaving dinner, it would be ten times worse.
"What's wrong?" Gene said, sipping his drink again.
"I can't help thinking about Langley..." she lied – although it wasn't really a lie, she had been thinking about it all evening, "he may have already killed one person... tried to kill me and Chris, and we let him get away."
"But we got his two scum bags friends; that's gotta be worth somethin' right?" he looked Alex in the eyes, and could tell that she wasn't telling him everything.
"I guess."
More silence. It wasn't as comforting now though. Alex's mind was racing, her headache having not completely gone away either. And she could tell from the way Hunt was looking at her that he knew something else was wrong. She hated herself for caring so much about someone who wasn't even real. She had to concentrate on reality, on Molly.
"I... I think I'm going to get an early night," she said finally.
"Okay," Hunt nodded.
She left her seat and started to move away from the table, taking the glass of wine with her.
"Wait!"
Alex turned round and looked at him expectantly.
"You uh... you left your jacket it the Quattro. I know 'ow much you love the soddin' thing; wouldn't be Bolly without it," he muttered, and she could tell he was making up excuses to keep her near.
"Right," she said with a faint smile, "I'll come and get it."
They left together, to where the car was parked just outside. Before Alex could get to the car, Hunt stopped her, taking her hand in his own. It was an odd gesture from someone as big and tough as he, but Alex wasn't complaining, finding a strange softness and familiarity in his rough hands. Her mind drifted back to the day her parents had died. It still felt different in some way. At least she hoped so. She didn't think her heart raced quite this much when she was a little girl, and she was certain that aged eight, she hadn't longed to be closer to the man who held her.
"Gene..." she whispered, looking up at him.
He pulled her closer to him and wrapped his arms around her, saying nothing.
After a moment, he let go of her. She felt like something was missing now that she didn't have his strong arms around her. Looking up at him, Alex tried to read his expression.
"You've needed it for days," he said, his gruff tone not matching the meaning behind his words at all.
"I have." she said simply.
There was a soft rustling noise coming from the alleyway opposite them, and Alex turned to look at it, her body going tense.
"What?"
Alex looked back at him, "nothing. It's nothing. You know... since my par-- since the Price's, I've been a bit... on the edge."
Hunt nodded, deciding that if she was going to tell him any more than that, she would do it in her own time.
"Right, your jacket, yeah?" he said, breaking eye contact and moving towards the car.
Alex heard the gunshot long before she felt it. It seemed like a whole five minutes before it hit her body, a scream leaving her lips. The glass fell from her hands, shattering into tiny pieces. She didn't fall with it though, didn't hit the ground, and she couldn't understand why at first, but then realized she had Gene's arms around her again. He was kneeling now, with her draped over his knee, pulled up into his arms. The blood. It was everywhere, coating everything. She tried to breathe, but every body-shaking breath hurt more than the one before. Her eyes clouded with tears.
She was scared. So scared that this was it, that the final spark of life within her had burnt out and she was to die here, and in 2008, and there was nothing she could do about it. Should she say goodbye to Molly? She realized she couldn't even if she wanted to.
The clown – of which she hadn't seen in days, it fading with the image of her father – was walking towards her, arms open. She squinted at it, and although it was fuzzy, it didn't disappear. It continued to get closer and closer, it's head nodding like one of the strange plastic dogs that Molly had bought for the back of her car.
And then it hit her. This was her way out, wasn't it? Surely she couldn't actually die in 1981? And if she did... then she'd go back home. A soft smile formed on her lips. She was ready to go. Maybe she hadn't got to say goodbye... but it was better this way. This way she didn't have to put her friends – no, her imaginary constructs – through the pain (if, that was, they could feel pain) of her saying goodbye again.
She closed her eyes and soon everything – the traffic, the screams of her colleagues as they rushed out to see what had happened, even the smell of Hunt – faded away to nothing.
