Change of plan – THIS is the penultimate chapter. It was getting long, so I stretched it out – plus you get the update quicker! Sorry it's been so long – enjoy. Oh and get the tissues ready – you have been warned.


"Earth to Bolly"

"What?" The DI looked quickly up from the menu in front of her, eyes slightly glazed as they reflected the flickering candlelight.

"You alright?"

Alex bit her lip and looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze; how could she be 'alright'? She had, only a few hours earlier, nearly died at the hands of the man who was both her childhood guardian and her daughter's godfather; a daughter, incidentally, who she wasn't sure ever to set eyes on again, trapped as she was in this surreal time-loop, where both everything and nothing seemed real.

"Bolls?"

She felt a strange sensation of rough warmth and looked up to see the unlikely sight of Gene's hand on hers. His large paw seemed to engulf her slender one completely and, as she met his eyes, he gave it a tender squeeze. It was as though his hand had squeezed her heartstrings too, for she felt a sudden pang of emotion rocket through her as she saw the unguarded insecurities behind his eyes.

As she tentatively squeezed his hand back, Alex realised something. The man sitting before her was no longer just her brash, mouthy, dinosaur of a DCI. Nor was he Signor Hunt, another macho bloke whose evenings were best spent with the lads, staring into the bottom of a bottle, cigarette in hand. He wasn't even the Gene Genie: that ballsy, proud individual who loved to push the boundaries, his car, and his team to the limits.

No, she realised, right now, he was just Gene: defences down; concern written all over his face; pitiful hope in his eyes.

He was just a boy, sitting in front of a girl, holding her hand over dinner.

"Anty-pasta?"

Alex was thrown back to reality with a jerk. "What?"

"I dunno what it is, but it's the most expensive 'n' I'm starvin' – you got yer mains sorted yet?"

"Oh right - um...," she spluttered, snatching her hand away and hastily looking back down at the menu, "I don't mind – you choose for me." Alex was far too absorbed in her thoughts of today and the man sitting opposite her to think about food.

Casting a glance at her flustered face, Gene Hunt swivelled around in his chair, seeking out the barman.

"Oi, Luigi – get your arse over 'ere – we're starvin'!"

The old Italian hurried over to their table, leaving another group of diners open-mouthed, their orders only half-given.

"Si si - What is it Signor Hunt? What is it you want?"

"Two of your finest rump steaks –" his eyes quickly flickered up to meet Alex's as he enunciated his 'r's, "- bottle o' red and some o' this ant-pasta stuff." He closed the menu with a sharp snap and thrust it towards the older man.

"Yes, yes – good choice, Signor. I hope the beautiful Signora here is happy, too, with your choice?"

"It sounds wonderful, Luigi," Alex smiled, blushing as the avuncular Italian winked at the pair of them.

"Just don't you go puttin' any insects in my dinner, Luigi – or I've got a cell with your name on it!"

Alex opened her mouth to reply, but settled for rolling her eyes in exasperation, and when Gene cleared his throat pointedly, the little, old man scuttled away to kitchens in a hurry, leaving the two of them alone once more.

"So then, uh, Drake..." Gene's attempts to initiate conversation seemed half-hearted at best, assuming that awkward silence was better than anything that he could come up with.

"I know, Gene."

She stretched out a hand and slipped it gingerly over his. The self-proclaimed lion was content to simply watch the proceedings, biding his time and conserving all his energy for the hunt. Feeling a mixture of anticipation and alcohol spur her on, Alex rubbed her thumb lightly across the back of his hand. Lost in the sensation of skin on tingling skin, she became bold; flipping his hand over, she linked her fingers with his, squeezing their palms together. Feeling braver still, Alex impulsively tugged his hand towards her, bringing it up to nestle against her cheek, luxuriating in the feel of his warm palm against her skin.

Even as his breath caught in his throat, Gene acted on that primal instinct that made him such a good copper; without further thought, he reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. When Alex leaned into his touch and nuzzled his hand, with hers still clasped tightly over it, he felt his chest suddenly tighten with emotion and unconsciously, he found himself leaning forwards in his seat. Seeing an errant lock of hair fall across her eye, Gene reached up to brush it away with his free hand but, as he tucked it behind her ear and felt the warmth of her body, he allowed his fingers to linger over the tender skin, ghosting across her temple and neck.

Alex sensed the strange, opposing forces of her racing heart and halted breathing, as she shivered deliciously under his touch. Meeting his eyes again, she was startled by the raw emotion she saw staring back at her, mirroring that which she was sure her own eyes betrayed. On past occasions, she thought she caught a glimpse of it in those ocean-orbs of his, struggling to break free from a prison of pride and barely healed scars. But now, all was laid bare for her to see. No more pretending. Gene held her eyes with a glance so tender and so open, that it almost broke her heart.

"Uh, excusa me? Antipasta for two?"

Alex promptly dropped Gene's hand in shock, whilst he withdrew his other hand so swiftly, he nearly fell off his chair. The unexpected appearance of Luigi seemed to bring them back down to earth with a jolt; both looked quickly down at the dishes laid before them, all at once red-faced and shy.

"I not interrupt anything, Signor Hunt?" the little, old man's facade of innocence was fooling no-one.

Gene grumbled something non-committal, concentrating so hard on his food that he looked as though he was trying to memorise every breadcrumb.

"I leave you to it then..."

Alex looked up to mutter a thanks, but the kindly Italian was already gone.


Having stumbled haphazardly through the silence that accompanied the starter, Gene watched tentatively as Alex worked her way through the main course. He observed that, as with everything his DI did, she carried it off with a certain amount of finesse. She cut every piece of steak with the upmost precision, holding her cutlery just-so, giving away the upmarket, Oxford education of her roots. But despite the clinical dissection, Gene could tell that she enjoyed every mouthful; peeking up from his own plate, he watched as slipped the morsel delicately off the fork, her tongue wrapping around it, drawing it into her mouth. He watched as her eyes half closed in pleasure, her taste-buds savouring every titbit, and felt his own mouth begin to water.

Alex watched him as well, sneaking glimpses when she knew he wasn't looking. There was something about his manner - the way he sat hunched with uncertainty over his plate, or the awkwardness with which he held knife and fork in his clumsy paws – that made her insides melt. She took it all in: his posture; the furtive glances; the napkin tucked comically into his shirt; and the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.

"You don't do this often, do you, Gene?" Her words seemed to startle him, and he promptly dropped his cutlery with a noisy clatter.

"What?"

Alex said nothing, but instead indicated their now-empty plates.

"Dinner?" He furrowed his brows, looking confusedly across at her. "'Course I've 'ad dinner before you dozy tart – even the Gene Genie has to eat sometimes..." He paused again and sudden concern glazed his eyes, "You ok? Not got concussion or nothin' 'ave you?"

"No, Gene, I assure you I'm perfectly sane," she smiled, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. "I mean this –" she swept her hand in a vague, circular gesture, "taking someone to dinner."

"Yeah, 'course I 'ave – don't be daft!" His tone was immediately defensive, and he seemed to sit up a little straighter, as if trying to fend off any further enquiries.

"Gene," The single word was question, answer and gentle remonstration all rolled into one.

He opened his mouth as if to answer back, but seemed to check his reaction, and closed it again with a sigh. Hunching further forwards, he leant in close as though he had no desire to be overheard.

"Alright then, you want the truth, Bolls?" his voice was suddenly low and unguarded, "Never."

"What?" It was Alex's turn to look confused.

"Dinner"

"You mean you've never...?" Alex trailed off, the half formed question lost to the air, gazing dumbly as he mirrored her earlier movements, indicating their empty plates.

Gene toyed wistfully with the stem of his wine-glass and lowered his eyes as he spoke, as though to himself, "The missus never liked it – never liked anythin' much really –" Sighing heavily he seemed momentarily absorbed in his memories, but after a time, he continued. "We were young – too young – kids really... It was a drunken fling... well, it was supposed to be..." He stopped again, briefly lost in thought, before finishing his story. "...but then she said she was up the duff... so I did the 'onourable thing an' married 'er."

"You've got a child?" Alex had no desire to break his flow of memories and the invaluable insight they provided, but she just couldn't help herself interrupting. How was it possible that Gene Hunt – the gruff, misogynistic, borderline alcoholic - was a father?

"Dead"

The single word hit her with a dull thump, and Alex felt her breath catch in her throat with a spluttering squeak. She just stared at him, open-mouthed, and ears ringing with a strange peal of ghostly bells.

"Meningitis they reckoned – she was ten days old –" he tried to go on, but his voice was cracking so much, that he couldn't speak. Alex saw it all – the inner battle; he was too pained to talk, but knew that if he didn't force himself to go on, he never would. She saw as he scrabbled desperately for control over his emotions, his fists bunched with the effort that continuing the tale cost him.

"Missus couldn't 'andle it – any feelin's we 'ad were gone – kaput. Still, we stuck together – thought it would get better..." he looked miserably down at his knuckles, "... it never did. Fourteen years we'd been together – and we never celebrated one anniversary – not one. She was busy... or ill - always an excuse. I should've spotted the signs.

Got 'ome one night after a couple of hours in the pub with the lads... and she'd gone. No clothes. No note. Nothin'. Jus' upped an' left.

I didn't stay long. Another five years or so, an' me an' the boys moved down 'ere. Couldn't 'ack it any more – goin' 'ome to the same empty 'ouse... same empty bed.

I promised myself then – I'd never do it again – never fall for anyone..."

And as suddenly as he had started, he stopped.

Alex didn't know what to do. This was the longest she had ever heard Gene talk for, but it was a speech woven from the twisted, broken threads of a life lived in bitter and unforgettable sadness. It was as though she was suddenly seeing the real Gene for the first time; the raw and broken humanity that underneath all the blustering outbursts.

He was still the Manc lion, but one who held his paws close to his chest, still trying to cradle the cub that would never return. He had tried to growl his way through life, howling into the night with a pain that would never leave him, but now he couldn't summon a whimper.

Even as he bent his head down in terrible silence, and his shaggy mane fell across his eyes, Alex saw her own shocked face reflected in the single tear that fell with an audible plink onto his empty plate. An empty plate, but a heart so full of pain that it had finally burst its banks, leaving Gene swept away in the torrent of emotion, desperately seeking something, or someone, to keep him from drowning in the horror of it all.

"I –" Alex began to speak, but choked on a gasping sob, and had to start again. "I'm so... sorry." She didn't know how to go on - what to say. Words were superficial; they couldn't fill the gaping void of silent misery.

But she couldn't just sit here.

Alex's body seemed to move of its own accord and, unconscious of the decision to do so, she shuffled round to Gene's side of the table and drew him to her in a tight hug. He resisted only for a second, before he returned the embrace with a force so great it shocked her. She felt him shaking gently against her, and then the salty dampness that pressed into her hair and neck. She buried her head in his shoulder and for a moment they were all at once the sinking ship; the stormy sea; and lighthouse that points them home.

They just held each other.

Snuffling back a broken sob, Gene drew slowly back from her shoulder, sliding both paws up to cup Alex's tear-streaked face. Stormy blue eyes met hazel; both awash with tears; both so intense with emotion that they seemed to overflow; eyes that, like their hearts, had seen too much action.

She knew what he needed, and when he moved, she didn't resist.

His eyes burned into hers, and Alex briefly thought that he muttered something to her. But it was lost in a sigh and she soon forgot.

When he pressed his lips to hers, she felt the world fall down around them.


Hope you're used to the cliffhangers by now! One more chapter to go – I promise it won't be so long this time! Full-smut-ahead!

GeneGenie x

(Thanks to all the reviewers and the guys over on TRA who prompted me to update!)