Just so you know, I wrote this chapter in two parts. I actually did the last half first and then worked backwards, which is strange for me but I hope it makes sense! Enjoy!

xxxNTxxx

"Help! Gene! God, help me, Gene! Help ME!"

It didn't sink in properly, although he could hear every word. The posh twang in her accent, each syllable pronounced in perfect articulation, but also twisted in pain and panic, a screech of agony and loneliness. The words… what she was screaming into the radio did not compute with her normal way of speaking. She never shouted for help. She never begged in that way. It didn't seem right. And so it was only inevitable that Gene would freeze in temporary shock. It felt like it always did when he knew Bolly was in danger; the cry for help was like sharp waves lashing out at his emotions, eroding away his self control until suddenly he felt like yelling at the first person he saw. Unfortunately, as he turned towards the exit, that person was Chris.

All the poor DC had asked was if he was alright.

"For Christ's sake, Christopher, get out of my bloody way before I demote you to a friggin' rubbish bin!"

"Sorry, Guv." Chris frowned. He turned to Ray, who stood a little way off behind him, and they exchanged dubious glances. "We just came to… err… to…"

"If you say to check up on me, you're gonna be sorrier than a blasphemous nun."

"Please." A croak animated from the radio in Gene's hands, making him jump slightly.

"Was that DI Drake?" Ray wondered aloud as he took a drag of his cigarette calmly. Gene didn't answer, unable to take in their unworried faces, the way the didn't seem too bothered by the fact that something fishy was obvious happening. They didn't care what happened to Bolly, not like the Gene Genie cared. But he couldn't speak right now, couldn't give them an answer. He simply barged his way past them both and stormed from the office, radio still in hand. As he left, Ray knew that two things were wrong with this scene. One, the Guv had left his jacket on the back of his chair. Two, he'd also left behind a full glass of single-malt whiskey.

"Should we go after him again?" Chris half asked, half stated, also noticing the revelation.

"Yeah." Ray nodded in agreement. "Let's catch up."

*****

Had he heard her? God, what would happen if he hadn't heard her?

Screaming had been Alex's only option. But it didn't seem that anything had happened. The bruising on her head was making her woozy again, the shouting dizzying her thoughts and blurring her mind. Who was it that she was asking after again? Gene! Don't forget him! God, don't forget him… don't go back to sleep…

"Please." She whispered, voice all but broken. She felt broken. Like a rag-doll that had been tossed aside. Perhaps that was all she really was in this frantic little world.

He probably didn't hear her. He probably could only hear stupid noises that didn't make sense. He would dismiss it. Who wouldn't? Maybe he thought that it was just static? Caused by… thinking too much made the bruise throb eve more, which was a pain. She just wanted to be able to think, to have room in her head, but that hurt, so she didn't think, which resulted in panic that wasn't needed. She would be safe. As long as Gene heard her cries.

"Bolly."

Alex wanted to laugh, but it hurt. Instead, a smile slowly sneaked across her face as all of the agony seemed to falter, slip from her body, allowing sudden glee to enter her mind. Trying to crane her neck towards the radio didn't work, so she resorted to just listening as his comforting words began to flow faster and faster – although his voice was rough and she could hear a car engine (Ray's old banger? Was the Quattro still at the party?) roaring in the background.

"You there, Bolls? Look, I know it's you, tell me where you are. Give us a clue."

"Ma'am?" It was Chris. "You alright, ma'am?"

"Of course she's not bloody alright, you twonk." Came Rays voice. All three of them must've been huddled close to the police radio as Gene drove.

"Will you two shut up?" Gene barked. "Wish I'd left you back at the ruddy station, I can't hear her! Bolls, d'ya know where you are? Where are you, Bolly? Come on, speak."

"Gene…" Alex tried, all too happy that he had actually come to her rescue. Then she realised that shouting was the better thing to do. "…I don't know where I am! Can you hear me?! Gene! Chris! Ray?!"

"Bolly…"

"Who are you talking to, DI Drake?" A voice from ahead made Alex jump from where she sat, and her eyes searched the darkness until they fell upon a shadowed figure several paces in front, still as a statue. It was a man, the voice recognisable… it was… Alex tried to pin-point it.

"You took me here." Alex finally realised in one blunt comment.

"State the obvious." The man agreed with slight vindictiveness.

"Why?" She croaked, voice hoarse from all of the yelling. "Why have you put me through all of this grief, what have I done to you?"

"Nothing, really. Well, not yet." The man answered. "But you were getting close to the girlfriend – not a good idea, DI Drake. And this wasn't the first time that your lot have snooped about my business."

"What?"

"Gene Hunt and his little mates came to my place with threats of violence." The man continued to answer. He paused, letting the information sink in slowly. Alex couldn't calculate quickly, but soon she managed to get there. This was that cop killer. The man Gene had been so anxious to protect her from. Joe Cutts.

"How ironic." Alex muttered under her breath, her mind slowly gathering up into some sort of sense. "Look, I'm sorry if they did that, but believe me, I had nothing to do with it. I wasn't even allowed to join them."

"That's not the point." Joe came forward. "You're one of them. You were getting too close to my girlfriend, and she's got nothing she wants to say to you…"

"Wait, your girlfriend?" Alex's brain quickly made the connections – a sign that she was on the mend. "Charlie Waldricks is your girlfriend? See, I knew there was a connection."

"What are you talking about, DI Drake?"

The radio crackled again. Alex felt dread rumble in the pit of her stomach.

"Oi, Bolly, we can hear you. Where are you?"

"Police radio?" Joe asked with a smirk, now so close to her face that their noses touched. "I saw it. I left it there on purpose." He moved his hand to her back pocket and took the radio – Alex squirmed, the bonds holding her furious hands down. "DCI Hunt?" Joe spoke into the radio calmly. "I do hope you're not coming on some kind of valiant rescue mission, are you?"

"Cutts?" Gene recognised his voice straight away, his voice spitting out in a short burst of absolute anger. "Leave her alone. What do you want with her?"

"Oh, come on." Joe laughed. "What could I possibly not want with her? Pretty eyes, this one. Much more attractive that Charlie. Might keep her for personal use." He reached forward and stroked Alex's lids. She jerked away with a grunt.

"Don't you dare touch her or I'll pound you into the ground."

"Yeah, and me, mate. Been waiting for an excuse." Ray piped up.

"Oh dear." Joe began to walk back to his place in the shadows. "I guess I'm in trouble now. The big bad man's going to beat me with the help of his over-grown rat of a DS. I'm shivering."

"I'll be doing it too." Chris added in his best tough-man voice.

"I see." Joe rolled his eyes and held the radio at arm's length. "Want to scream anything else before they have to go, Drake?"

Alex didn't move. She didn't say a word. A tear began to well up in the corner of her right eye – the same eye that could see a clear image of Molly standing beside her. But her daughter was not looking at the evil man who had kidnapped her mummy.

"No." She stated finally. She couldn't let on that there was something going on between her and Gene or else he and the others could get seriously injured. She wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even imaginary constructs. After all, it would forever be on her conscience.

Joe did a small shrug and dropped the radio to the ground. "Bolly-" Was the last thing she heard before Joe's foot collided with the small black box, crushing it down into the metal floor and causing parts to fly everywhere.

"You shouldn't do that, Drake." He assured her. "Contact with the outside world is strictly forbidden. Or else someone could get hurt. Now… what to do with you."

*****

"I don't understand, was DI Drake right then?" Chris asked as Gene spun Ray's stupid motor round a sharp bend, almost losing a gravity hold on the car itself. They had finally given up with the radio when static had overwhelmed it's system, and considered the possibility that contact with Alex was now completely impossible. They were nearly at the Thames.

"No." Gene grunted. "Well, yes. Look, my snout was right for thinking that Joe Cutts- "

"Bastard."

" –was the dealer, so that makes me right. Drake thought that Charlie Waldricks was connected. She is, but it's not that important. Just the girlfriend, probably terrified of him. It's one of his many boats that the cocaine is being transported on."

"But he's got, like, loads o' boats." Ray confirmed. "Hoe do we know which one it is?"

"Well, I'm assuming the one that's tied up at the docks, you plonker."

"Right."

"But…" Chris's brain was working so hard, you could almost smell his concentration. "…where's DI Drake then?"

"I dunno!" Gene yelled, turning another harsh corner.

"Why are we heading for the druggies hang-out?"

"'Cos that's where Bolls was. That's where Joe was 'cos it's his boat and that's where he took her without my permission."

"But…"

"What is it, Christopher?!"

"Don't you think he'd know that you'd look 'ere first? Y'know, 'cos she was 'ere last?"

It went silent in the car, the only sound was of the engine as it chugged along, practically dead.

"He's right." Ray nodded. "He'll 'av taken her away."

The car came to a stop at the river bank, almost knocking over about ten people and parking rather incredulously beside a boxy red machine, left alone and unwanted. Gene didn't want to admit Chris was right just as much as he wanted to nurture his toy back to health. Never would he leave his car with some ruddy woman again.

"I didn't come 'ere for Drake." He lied quickly. "Quattro needs some Genie-loving."

They exited Ray's vehicle (who wasn't pleased about the fact that it meant his car would be left here for God knows how long) and re-located themselves inside the all-too familiar and comforting seats of the good ol' Quattro. Happy that his pride and joy was safely back in his hands but still completely enraged by Alex's treatment, Gene stamped his foot down on the accelerator pedal and sped ahead, again nearly knocking down a few junkies and a couple of woman in bikinis. Ray ogled them, winding down the window to wolf-whistle and make shameful notions with just his fingers. Chris tutted and turned away from the display, letting his mind side-track to the thought of Shaz when he asked her the ultimate question. Gene ignored both of them, mind set on one task and one task only – locate and retrieve Bolly-kecks.

"We'll follow the river." He told them.

"Wouldn't it be better if we just ask someone about her?" Chris wondered. "Y'know, in case they saw where she was taken to."

The car came to a sudden halt. Gene squeaked his leather gloves against the wheel and turned to the DC on the backseat. Why did he suddenly start spouting out good ideas now?

"Fine." Gene agreed with slight reluctance. "Raymundo, accompany Christopher, ask around, you know the drill. Routine job, like door-knocking."

"Aw, Guv!" Ray complained.

"Oi, you wanna find Drake or not?"

"S'pose…"

"Then get a bloody move on!"