Chapter 8 - The Awakening

"What are you doing in my office?"

The man facing Gene Hunt now was tall and thin with a receding hairline of brown and grey, tight hazel eyes with an accusing shine and heavy-shadowed cheekbones that carved down his face.

DCI Bridger was now coming forward, a frown etched across his forehead and chin. He was the complete opposite of what Gene had expected. He was neat, of course, but not at all slimy. There was no sign that he was an utter geek or fun-sucker, he just looked… normal. Old, even. And so Gene straightened his own tie and coughed in discomfort, mildly aware that the rest of CID was watching from behind. This had not been what he had expected at all. How could he act like he was in charge after being taken by surprise?

"Your office?" Gene began, trying not to sound nervous. He recognised his attitude as the one he'd adopted when Lord Scarman had come to inspect his station in London a year ago. The type of attitude he used when speaking to someone above him. "That would make you chief inspector, then?"

"Yes, and you are?" Bridger didn't seem too convinced.

"Uh…"

"This is Mr Gene Hunt, sir." Annie announced, appearing from the doorway and smiling sweetly. A nice attitude that she adopted whenever the opportunity arose.

"The old DCI, really?" Bridger suddenly cracked a grin and grabbed at Gene's right hand quickly, shaking him violently. It was only afterwards that Gene realised he was being friendly and not trying to rip his arm off. "Last I heard, you and a couple young men went down to the south. Not to your liking, was it not?"

"You might say that." Gene soured at the mention of that place, turning away. "If you excuse me, sir, I've got some business to attend to. Ta muchly."

"Well alright." Bridger had warmed to him instantly, whisking him out of the office and waving him off too. "Thank you for coming to see me, much appreciated. Bye now!"

And then the door slammed shut. Gene, on the other side, grunted but appeared to walk away from what Bridger could make through the frosted glass. Annie was still in his office, as he had intended. She realised that this meeting had gone too quickly, that something was definitely wrong. She made to go for the door, somehow thinking that perhaps he had not realised that she was here, but he pulled back her arm quickly. She looked affronted, but didn't complain.

"What's wrong, sir?" She asked, sincere.

"That man." Bridger breathed out, moved towards his desk and leaned against it with the palms of his hand as if he was suddenly so stress-filled. "Gene Hunt. You do realised what that man did, don't you?"

Annie gulped. "Don't know what you mean, sir."

"Oh, come off it, Cartwright." Bridger laughed. "It was posted to us ages ago, we've had numerous calls. Every station within Manchester has been warned about this man. As I'd never seen him before and they haven't filed a photo through yet, I didn't realise it was him until you gave me his name."

"Oh, no, no…" Annie gabbled, aware that she had maybe gotten Gene into serious trouble. "No, you don't understand, he wouldn't hurt a fly… well, that may be an exaggeration, but he would never do those terrible things he's being blamed for…"

"Annie, he shot his own DI." The Guv guffawed. "You can be so sweet, sometimes. But you need to get your pretty little head out of the clouds and wake up. Look, he's dangerous and it's our job to secure him. Where is he living at the moment?"

"At the moment?" Annie looked behind and then forward again, as if it was a secret. "He isn't."

"Then did he just arrive this morning?"

"No…"

"Then where did he base himself?"

"I wouldn't call it that…"

"Where is he hiding?"

Annie couldn't see a way out of this. She had to tell the truth. "Okay, he stayed at mine last night, but it was just one night, just because he was so bladdered. I was just doing and old friend a favour."

Bridger mused this for a second, before shaking his head with a tiny pout on his lips. "No. He's not your friend anymore. And he's certainly not your DCI anymore. I am. I'm your boss, and I say, you're going to stay on our side and help me arrest this man. Right now."

*****

Chris Skelton was yet again at Alex Drake's side, holding her hand in honour of Gene Hunt. At least, he hoped that she'd know that; that wherever she was, inside her head, she knew that Chris was there as a favour to her beloved Gene and that if he could, that man would be here right now. Actually, that wasn't what Chris had thought up. It was what Shaz had said, but he was now thinking it over. He glanced past Alex's body at where Shaz was sat, a magazine in one hand, her eyes constantly flicking from the page to her comatose friend. Chris caught sight of that gleaming engagement ring, knowing that he should be smiling. Truth was, he could never bring himself to enjoy that strip of metal as much as she did. Not after what he had gone through to buy it.

But that was in the past, and he should've been thinking about the future. So he squeezed Alex's hand tight and put on a goofy grin for Shaz.

"Hey, Shazzer," He began in his silly, dumb-struck voice. "Ray got me these right nice cuff-links for the weddin'."

"Yeah?" Shaz beamed back at him, happy that the subject of that special day was the topic, as she had still many things to discuss. After all, it wasn't long now. "That's fab. I've got something blue and borrowed but I still need something old."

"Don't you need somethin' new as well?" Chris frowned.

"Duh, baby, that's the wedding dress." She rolled her eyes and leaned over the bed to reach Chris's lips, where they met and parted just as quickly. No need to disrespect their DI by snogging their hearts out above her frail form. Then again, the doctor had said that her condition was getting better, and that soon she would be almost ready to wake. Well, that was something good at least. Chris thought that maybe he should call the Guv and tell him the good news. Get him back home in time for her eyes to flutter. In time for the wedding…?

"This isn't right." Chris moaned suddenly.

"What isn't?" Shaz replied, head absorbed in her magazine.

"The Guv should be here for us." He continued, looking far off.

"Oh no, Chris, don't start this again." Shaz flopped her reading material onto her knee with a whine, the air of a woman who'd had this conversation too many times. "I only agreed not to tell anyone, so he made his choice and should stick to it. I don't know. If he really cared about DI Drake…" She stopped, unsure whether to carry on or not. Chris didn't say anything, just looked into Alex's eyes. They looked wrong when they didn't have that exotic blue make-up caking her lids and underneath too; the nurses had cleaned her face the day they'd brought her in.

The more Chris stared at her eyes, the more they seemed to move. Then, slowly but surly, he realised that this wasn't just his imagination.

"Shaz, when you're in a coma do your eyes move?"

Shaz laughed. "Underneath your lids, yeah."

"No, I mean do your eyes open a bit and then close again really quickly?" He tried again.

She didn't answer, instead choosing to stand up in one fast movement and allow her mouth to gape. "Oh my God!" She half should, half whispered, and then she looked at Chris. "She's waking up, like the doctor said. Chris!"