Apologies for the break in service, a bad case of writers block combined with real life events has kept me away from the keyboard. Hopefully the muse will cooperate and I'll try to keep this story on track. Keep the reviews coming - they are really appreciated :-)

Previously...
Alex didn't go into the Railway Arms, but made it back to Molly. However, Layton's shooting has left its mark on her both mentally and physically. She visits Manchester and Gene's grave and then events take an interesting turn. The farmhouse where Gene was shot has been renovated and Alex takes an instant decision to buy it and move in with Molly. But even after that she still can't forget Gene and on Christmas Eve Gene reappears in her life.

With Gene back in her life, it looks like Alex is finally putting herself back together - even with Gene making his occasionally annoying sudden appearances when she's in the bathtub. Meanwhile both her counsellor and Molly have suggested that she returns to the book she was writing before she was shot - and even Gene agrees in his own way.

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A New Dawn?

"You wanna be careful in London, all sorts of perverts and scumbags down there."

Alex sighed quietly and continued her packing under the eagle eye of Gene who was sitting with his booted feet propped up on the dressing table.

"I know," she said, "I used to live there. Remember?" She crossed to the dressing table and gathered a few lotions and potions that were absolutely essential for the trip. "Besides, this was your idea."

"Was not!" He crossed his arms defensively and scowled in her direction.

"You said I should write a book. You said I should get a life. Well I did the first one and now I'm doing the second. You should be happy for me."

Gene knew that she had a point – but it didn't make it any easier. Some days he felt like he was being torn in two – half of him wanted Alex to move on and start living her life again – after all that was the whole point of him coming back wasn't it? But the other half of him – well that half just wanted things to go on as there were. He'd always been a big fan of the status quo – and for burying his head in the sand.

"It's a good book," he said, changing the subject slightly.

"I couldn't have done it without your help – none of it." And she didn't just mean the book. Slowly and gradually she had started to rebuild her life and none of it would have been possible without Gene's gentle – and sometimes not so gentle – encouragement. She knew now that there would come a time when perhaps Gene wouldn't be here – oh, the very thought still caused her heart to flutter in panic, but she knew that they couldn't really go on like this forever. Could they?

She took a deep breath, zipped her weekend holdall closed and walked over to Gene, throwing herself into his lap as she sought physical comfort to banish the sudden sadness she felt.

Gene didn't exactly object to being crushed in a huge hug but gathered her closer. "What's all this then? What's up?"

"Nothing." She rested her head against his shoulder and threaded her fingers through his. "I'm going to miss you that's all."

"It's only a weekend love. Besides, I could always pay a visit? I'm sure Evan wouldn't mind."

Alex laughed. "I think he's only just about recovered from his last visit here. You do tease him awfully."

"He deserves it. Pompous prat."

"Anyway, I'm going to be busy at the publishers and rushing around playing tourist with Molly. Besides, you promised to look after Monty."

"Flaming cat! Spoils all my fun."

"Not all of it surely?" She rearranged her position, swinging her leg over his thighs until she was straddling him, while gently nuzzling at his neck. "Let me show you how much I'm going to miss you."

Despite his best intentions, Gene was in no position to resist. With Alex hanging on limpet-like, he stood up and staggered the short distance to the bed, throwing Alex down onto the soft duvet. "Thought you'd never offer."

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Alex patiently sat in the publisher's modern and almost antiseptic waiting room, quietly reflecting on the fact that she seemed to spend much of her life in waiting rooms these days. If it wasn't at the hospital for regular check-ups, then it was at Gabe's consulting rooms having her feelings dissected. At least here it was purely business and she felt suitably business-like dressed in a smartly tailored skirt suit with vertiginous heels, cherry-red lipstick and her hair cut into a short, sleek crop. She patted her hair nervously – the brain surgery of a couple of years ago had left its mark but she was attempting to grow it back to its previous length. Long way to go yet. She was also still somewhat sensitive about the scar on her forehead but she had grown a fringe to compensate – which had the additional benefit of hiding any incipient frown lines.

"Nervous?"

She jumped slightly as a strange but startlingly handsome man sat down next to her.

"Sorry?"

"Your first book? I can always tell you – it's that 'rabbit in the headlight' expression."

"And you are?"

"Sorry. I didn't introduce myself did I? Terrible habit – Adam, Adam Carter." He held out his hand.

"Alex Drake." She shook his hand and was pleasantly surprised by its warmth and firmness. She hated sloppy handshakes.

"Miss or Mrs Drake?"

Alex couldn't help laughing at his barefaced cheek. "None of your business."

"Ah, Mrs Drake then." He sighed dramatically. "I'm suitably devastated. Its not every day one meets the woman of one's dreams, only to discover that she's already taken."

"Do you always flirt like this with total strangers?"

"Only the dazzlingly beautiful ones. And the ones who look like they need their courage bolstering before facing the dragon."

Alex smiled as she realised that she had in fact totally forgotten about her nerves. It had been a long while since she had been chatted up by a handsome man – and he was handsome. Tall, slim, blond and blue-eyed with an excess of natural charm and no hesitation in using it. He was in fact, just what the doctor ordered. Alex realised she was staring and pulled herself together.

"So Mr Carter…"

"Adam please. Who are you seeing? With your manuscript?"

"Edward Gilchrist."

"Ah! You should be fine then. Old Gilchrist likes a pretty young lady to liven things up a bit."

"That's rather sexist don't you think?"

"Alas yes – but none the less absolutely true. And best to be forewarned yes? Besides, he's still a damned good publisher and if your book isn't up to snuff he still won't publish –although he might try to entice you out to dinner."

"You're outrageous."

"But charming?"

That she couldn't deny so she changed the subject instead. "You're an author?"

He nodded. "Yes, for my sins."

"Published?"

"But of course."

"Would I have ready any of your books?"

He studied her intently as if making a thorough examination of her character. "You know I can't actually decide – usually I can tell what sort of books a person reads just by looking at them. But with you I can't. Anyway, unless you're into Regency bodice-rippers artfully combined with a comedy of manners, then you probably haven't. "

"I don't understand."

"My nom de plume is Georgina Grey. 'Duchess in Distress' and 'Society Scandal' are the latest in a long line of, I have to say, very successful novels."

Alex stared in open-mouthed amazement. "You're Georgina Grey?"

He sighed. "I know. Hard to believe isn't it? But I'll have you know that all the best romance writers are men these days."

"No…I mean I have no idea. But Molly loves your books. She'll be so impressed when I tell her I've met you."

"Molly?"

"Oh my daughter. 15 going on 35 and full of attitude. But she still loves the whole Regency romance thing."

"I'll take that as a compliment then. And your husband – what does he read?"

Before she could answer the coolly aloof receptionist coughed discretely.

"Ms Drake? Mr Gilchrist will see you now?"

Alex gathered her belongings and headed towards the inner sanctum.

"Good luck Alex. Knock 'em dead."

Alex smiled back at Adam. "Thanks. Oh, and I have no idea what my ex-husband reads these days."

Adam smiled and watched Alex intently as she disappeared into the office, crossing his legs as he settled down to wait for her return.

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Later that night Alex tip-toed quietly through the front door to Evan's home, dropped her coat and bag on the hall table and silently made her way through the darkened house until she found the kitchen. She wasn't drunk…well perhaps a little tipsy, but she didn't want to wake up either Evan or Molly by switching on lights and making a noise. She hoped she could make herself a comforting mug of hot chocolate and then head off to bed.

Evan was not a believer in microwaves alas, and so she patiently waited as the milk heated gently in the pan, giving her time to think about today's somewhat momentous events. Even now she couldn't quite believe that she was about to become a published author – or at least she would be when she had set about revising her manuscript. Edward Gilchrist had loved her work, praising both the psychological insights and the emotional honesty she had brought to her story. But he had especially loved the parts of the book involving Gene and wanted her to develop those parts more – Edward thought Gene would be very popular in these days of heightened political correctness. He was probably right but the thought of Gene suddenly made Alex feel terribly guilty.

"Oh Gene. What am I to do?"

She touched her lips and closed her eyes. It had only been one kiss, a feather-light goodnight kiss from Adam as they had parted after their meal tonight. He had insisted that they celebrate her success and Alex had seen no reason to say no. It wasn't as if she and Gene were married was it? She still wasn't entirely sure that she was just imagining him. And even if she wasn't she didn't really know how to describe their relationship other than 'secret'. Besides, she deserved a little celebration and this thing with Adam Carter wasn't going anywhere – he was far too flash and good looking even if he was as charming as hell. So why did she feel so guilty?

"The milk's boiling over."

Alex's eyes flashed open in surprise as Evan entered the kitchen, swathed in a tartan dressing gown and looking dishevelled from sleep – or possibly lack of it.

"Bugger!"

"Here, let me. You sit down. Hot chocolate was it?"

Alex nodded. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"Not really. But I can never really settle until I know you're safe at home. Habit I suppose. Good night?"

Alex smiled at his gentle probing – exactly as he used to do when she was a rebellious teenager. "It was wonderful – just what I needed really."

"Good. Good." He poured the milk into a mug for Alex and made himself a small cup of cocoa with the remaining milk, before sitting down at the kitchen table. "Here. You always loved hot chocolate when you were a little girl."

They sat in companionable silence for a while and sipped their drinks until finally Evan cleared his throat – always the prelude to a perhaps difficult conversation.

"I do understand you know – how difficult it must be for you. And whatever my thoughts about what you do with your life, I only ever want the best for you."

"I know you do. But I have to live my life how I see fit – no matter if you approve or not."

Evan nodded. "It's hard isn't it? Letting go?"

"Sorry?"

"It's hard to let go of something….or someone. Oh I know you better than you think Alexandra Price. I read the first draft of your book, and I know from reading in between the lines that something happened to you when you were in that coma – something very profound. And now I'm guessing that you're finding it difficult to let go of that…experience."

Alex didn't have the strength to deny it – especially as it was true. She just nodded and took a sip of her hot chocolate.

"I'm not prying." He continued. "I just want you to know that I understand how difficult it is. After all, I've never quite managed to let you go have I?"

Alex reached for his hand. "You've been a wonderful guardian – and a friend. I don't know what I would have done without you – I sometimes forget to say that."

"My point is Alex, is that however you decide to live your life and whoever you decide to live it with, I always be there to support you – or help pick up the pieces. So don't be afraid of what life holds is all I'm saying."

She squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat again. "So, this Adam chap – anything I should know about?"

"Not yet. He wanted to see me again."

"Oh! Well that's good yes?"

Alex sighed. "I told him it was complicated." Although she had to admit that she hadn't told him exactly how complicated. She liked him, she knew that much.

"Well I wouldn't presume to advise you on your love life…."

"Heaven forbid!" Alex said with a laugh.

"Exactly. I'm sure you'll work it out but maybe he's just the tonic you need? Nothing serious, just someone to make you feel good about yourself? Anyway, I don't know about you but its well past my bed-time." He stood, walked around the table and kissed the top of her head. "Don't stay up too late. Remember you promised to take Molly shopping tomorrow – you'll need all your energy for that."

"Sure you won't come with us?"

"No thank you. I think after all these years I deserve a break. Goodnight pumpkin – sweet dreams."

"Night….and thank you. For everything."

"Night."

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Gene woke with a start and for a minute he was confused as he stared into the semi-darkness of Alex's kitchen. Finally he orientated himself and he lay back onto the sofa where he had fallen asleep. He had been having this strange dream and….he touched his lips with his fingers. He could have sworn he had felt someone kiss him. For a brief moment he wondered if ghosts could be haunted too. Bloody weird whatever it was.

He tried to get up but then felt the dead weight on his lap that was Monty. He prised the disgruntled feline from his comfortable bed, stood up and then just as gently replaced him on the sofa. Not that he'd ever do such a thing while Alex was about obviously – not good for his image. But he and Monty had come to an arrangement of sorts – while Alex was away, Monty got food and a comfortable bed and Gene got….well, Gene wasn't entirely sure what he got out of the arrangement.

He walked slowly over to the kitchen area, his stocking clad feet padding quietly over the floor tiles, until he reached the cupboard where he knew Alex kept the scotch. After pouring himself a large measure he looked around the quiet kitchen and wondered why he was here. I mean, Alex wasn't here and yet still he felt impelled to come. Maybe it wasn't just about Alex? He looked around the ultra-sleek kitchen again, and for a second, in his mind's eye, he relived it all; the muffled voices from behind the door, his voice telling them he was coming in (and God didn't he sound young?), followed quickly by a blinding flash of light and then the excruciating pain as the gunshot connected with his head and face. And then…..nothing. He thought he remembered hitting the floor but that must have been just a dream.

Gene blinked his eyes once and the vision was gone with only his rapidly beating heart to remind him of what had passed here. He felt a sharp pain in his calf and he looked down to find Monty attempting to climb up his leg.

"Give over hairball or I'll 'ave your guts for violin strings."

Despite the harsh words, he bent down and picked up Monty, nestling him against his chest.

"Come on son, time for bed."

And with barely a backward glance, he turned off the remaining lights and closed the kitchen door behind him.

to be continued.