Alex settled deeper into the cushions on the sofa as she listened to the rain beat against the windows. She was starting to wonder if it would ever stop.

Dinner had been a quiet meal. Alex had done her best but had been unable to do more than pick at her food. Gene had watched her pushing the pasta around her plate, saying nothing. He'd finished off her tiramisu.

The alcohol… the alcohol was helping though, taking the edge off the fear and the pain. Alex knew that she'd probably had more than enough but she couldn't seem to stop herself from draining the last of the bottle into her glass. She wanted to drink enough to forget… just for one precious night.

The door to the flat opened, and Alex looked up to see Gene walk in, shaking the drops of water from his jacket. He'd been outside to smoke.

"Shift your arse," he told her.

Alex moved over to give him space on the sofa. He looked tired, she realised… no worse than that … exhausted. Yet he seemed happy to stay here with her, even though he was practically asleep on his feet. Moving closer, she settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder in mute apology. She slipped her hand onto his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me DI Drake?" he chuckled as he slid his arm about her shoulders. They sat in silence, Gene's fingers idly stroking through her hair. Gentle, not demanding.

"You know… you know what the really stupid thing is?" she said eventually.

"What?"

"I'm supposed to be the expert… officers who suffer unusual trauma come to me for help … And now… God, I can't even help myself!"

Alex closed her eyes, her hand clutching at his shirt in her efforts to hide the fact that she was crying again. She hated herself for losing control, especially now when Gene couldn't fail to notice.

"There are people here who care about you, Alex," he said. "Remember that."

"People?"

"Even Keats thinks the Sun shines out of your arse."

"And you, Gene?"

He glanced away before answering.

"You're one of my team, Bolly."

"Somehow I can't see you carrying Ray into casualty," Alex smiled at his obvious discomfort.

"No chance… he's a lardy bastard."

His hand stroked her cheek, the simple gesture more powerful than the words Gene would never be able to say. Alex leaned into his touch, relishing the moment of tenderness from this most complex of men. Comforted, she settled back against him enjoying the closeness, the warmth of his body pressed against her. Gradually, she felt the rhythm of his breathing slow. Alex felt her own eyes drift shut as she gave in to the lure of sleep. She almost didn't hear the soft knock on the door.

"Bloody Luigi…" Gene muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Ignore it," Alex said.

"Can't do that," he said, getting up and going to the door.

It was a sad fact of the life they led. No phone call could go unanswered. No knock on the door ignored.

"What!"

He sounded very pissed off and Alex was certain that whoever was at the door would be leaving very rapidly. She didn't expect to hear the sound of a single gunshot.

She might have screamed. She might have tried to run to Gene only to find that her legs would no longer support her weight. Her mind refused to process the fact that he was lying on her kitchen floor, blood staining his shirt. She clawed at his body, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to get him to open his eyes…

In her next moment of coherent thought Alex found herself looking up at Slater…

… And then there was silence.