Greater Manchester Police A-Division CID, December 1995

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. DS Hunt, you must have the worst hangover in the history of hangovers, it's a wonder you made it to work. Fancy some Alka-Seltzer?"

"Yes please, sir," a very pale and bedraggled DS Gene Hunt muttered, gingerly levering himself down onto his chair and pressing his sunglasses closer to his face, glancing up at the lights and quickly looking back down again. Across the room, DC Ray Carling sniggered, waving a blister packet of aspirin in the air and tucking it back in his pocket as DCI Hamish Fox placed a plastic cup of pink liquid on Gene's desk, clapping him on the shoulder and smirking to himself as Gene moaned and clutched his head.

"The hospital let Skelton go in time for you to be picked up, then?"

"They reckoned 'e should just go 'ome an' sleep it off, sir," Gene mumbled, sipping the Alka-Seltzer and wincing as his stomach roiled. "All they did was wave some needles around an' try ter breathalyse 'im with my bloody breathalyser."

"Chris passed out in the foyer, DS Hunt took pity an' paid fer the taxi fer the both of 'em," Ray called from the other side of the room, grinning at Gene as his colleague flinched away from the loud noise. "The missus wasn't too pleased ter see 'im, neither. They were both in a right state."

"Pass on my regards to her, Gene. I understand she's waiting to join the police force?"

"Just until the baby's born. They said July, 'bout the twenty-second."

Gene gulped the last of the Alka-Seltzer down, coughing as he chucked the cup in the bin; the door squeaked open, and a slightly white DI Sam Tyler slowly poked his head round it, grinning at the state of the DS in front of him.

"The Gene Genie couldn't quite 'old 'is drink, then?"

"Least I didn't throw up over the ward sister's shoes," Gene smirked, drawing his sunglasses down an inch to savour Sam's also unpalatable complexion visibly becoming a little greener at his words. "Did yer get the bill fer the dry-cleanin'?"

The sudden downturn of Sam's mouth was enough to assure his audience that he had. The entire office guffawed with laughter, only stopping when both Gene and Sam clutched their heads, groaning with the pain.

"DI Tyler, I'm surprised at you, leading your junior officers astray," DCI Fox chuckled, holding the Alka-Seltzer out to Sam as he passed by on the way to his desk; Sam grabbed it with a mumbled thanks, snatching a plastic cup from Ray as he plumped down at his desk, turning the desk lamp off and glaring at his DC as he leaned over to turn it back on again.

"DC Carling, one inch more light in this room than there absolutely must be an' you'll be singin' like a Bee Gee."

Ray promptly decided to get on with the difficult task of sitting with his feet up on his desk, lighting a cigarette as Sam made a disgusted face and Gene foraged in his pocket for his own fags, his face falling.

Bloody missus makin' me quit the fags… He'd been a non-smoker for three years now, but the thought of a fag right now to uncoil his tense muscles made him want to vault over his desk and snatch the entire packet from Ray's hand. DCI Fox held a cigarette up in front of his face, grinning at the look of utter torture on his DS's face.

"Go on, Gene. One fag isn't going to kill you, is it?"

"The missus'll know straight off," Gene muttered in a forlorn voice, eyeing the cigarette as DCI Fox placed it between his lips, lighting up with a teasing smile on his face. "She can smell it a mile off. An' she always bloody knows if I'm 'idin' somethin'."

"And that is why you shouldn't have married a psychologist, young Hunt," DCI Fox grinned, pulling himself to his feet using the corner of Gene's desk and padding over to his office, only pausing to throw a ball of scrunched-up paper at the back of Ray's head and toss a "get on with some bloody work!" across the office at him. Gene rolled his eyes at the DC, pulling his pen from his chest pocket and scrawling his signature on the piece of paperwork in front of him, not even bothering to check what it was about.

It was going to be a long day, but at least he had the delight of being able to slowly drive a hung-over and embarrassed DI Tyler to screaming pitch at his leisure.

The ceremony was in a church to keep Gene's mother and Evan happy, the bells deafening everyone in the vicinity as the classic Audi Quattro Gene had insisted on drew up outside and the groom got out, all but diving for shelter inside the church as DC Ray Carling and PC Chris Skelton ran up and attempted to shower him in confetti, promptly having it confiscated by the recently-promoted DI Tyler. The sky was clear and blue, almost the exact same shade as the tie Gene's mother had given him to wear, having all but forced Gene into the shop to pick it out herself.

Alex would be arriving at ten, for the wedding to start at quarter past; Evan would be giving her away. She'd stayed at her godfather's house for the first time in two years last night, in keeping with tradition, and, Gene suspected, to keep herself from shagging him into oblivion and being too tired to fully appreciate their wedding night. Ever since he had introduced her to the pleasures of the bedroom, she had been pouncing on him whenever she could, once calling work and telling them she needed Gene instantly as she had food poisoning only to drag him straight to the bedroom as soon as he set foot inside, brow creased with confusion at how Alex could become ill in such a short space of time.

"Genie!"

"Bloody 'ell, Stu, don't do that!" Gene yelped, swerving round to take in his laughing brother and his frowning mother, pointing an accusing finger at him as her other hand clapped Stu gently round the head.

"Eugene Hunt, how dare you swear in church!"

"But 'e startled me!"

"You boys never grow up! You just beware, Gene, or I'll be showin' your new wife those baby pictures you tried ter 'ide be'ind the kitchen table-"

"Aw, Mam, you wouldn't!"

"I would, young man. Right, 'and over yer warrant card, I know yer've got it an' I'm not lettin' yer 'ave it durin' the service. This is about you marryin' Alex Price, an' I promised 'er I'd make sure yer couldn't be distracted by anythin' durin' the course of the day. She asked me especially fer the warrant card."

"That's not fair," Gene whinged, lip stuck out petulantly even as he ferreted in his inside pocket and drew his warrant card out, slapping it into his mother's outstretched palm with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Eileen Hunt raised her eyebrows, slotting it into her handbag and elbowing Stu in the ribs as he whistled at a young girl passing by the churchyard, tossing her a careless grin and making her blush furiously and stumble into a rose bush.

"Pack that in! You boys, yer all the same. An' you better keep it fer one woman only, Gene, otherwise yer'll lose 'er, you know that fer certain. Alex isn't like the silly little bints yer got used ter shaggin' fer one night only in yer teens, you respect 'er or she'll up sticks an' leave."

"Oh, trust me, Mam. Nobody'll ever be as special as Alex."

Gene's gaze grew vacant, the hard line of his mouth softening into what could almost have passed for a smile on a man more used to happiness; Mrs Hunt dabbed furiously at her eyes, jabbing Stu in the side once again as the young man pretended to vomit.

"Don't think I 'aven't seen yer love letters ter Shona Baynton, young man. 'Earts an' flowers galore! Did I tell yer 'e quoted a Shakespeare poem in one of 'em, Gene? What was it- 'shall I compare thee ter a summer's day? Thou art more lovely an' more temperate-'"

"Mam!" Stu yelled, his face as red as Gene's hired Quattro as his mother and brother convulsed with laughter, the tears once again running down Eileen's face as Gene pointed hopelessly at his brother, bent over with mirth.

"You- you actually said that ter 'er!"

"Not a word of a lie," Eileen hooted, almost choking as she glanced at the expression of beetroot-coloured horror on her son's face. "Oh, Genie, I ought ter tell 'is teachers, they could mention it in assembly, per'aps-"

"Gene! Gene Hunt! You need to get into position, the bride is arriving in a couple of minutes and the wedding will commence as soon as she arrives!"

"Ahh!" Gene gasped, grabbing at the nearest pew; Eileen moved forwards, hurriedly pulling him into a hug, and though Gene had outgrown Mammy's cuddles and kisses years ago he held her back, closing his eyes tight as Stu moved forwards to make it into a family hug, patting his brother lightly on the back.

"Just think, Genie boy, tonight yer'll be married ter the woman of yer dreams, won't yer? Just not if yer be'ave like a twonk around 'er. Keep it cool, collected, an' all that bullshit, eh? Alex might decide she's not goin' through with it if yer tremblin' too 'ard ter put the ruddy ring on 'er finger."

"Oh God, what if she decides- what if she decides she doesn't want it after all?" Gene hissed, pulling away in his panic; Eileen grabbed his shoulders, shaking him gently, ignoring Stu slapping himself on the cheek for managing to say the worst thing possible to worsen his brother's nerves.

"Eugene Hunt, don't be ridiculous. Alex wouldn't leave yer at the altar fer anythin'. Nothin' at all. She loves you, loves you with all 'er 'eart- she wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't fer you, would she? You're the man she said yes to, 'ell, she turned down the son of a baron ter be with you, didn't she? That posh prick she met on 'er university induction. So you stand by that altar an' look yer usual handsome self, an' everythin'll be fine. Absolutely fine."

"Gene- turn around."

Gene's legs almost gave way beneath him.

Eileen kept hold of his elbow, concerned for her son's ability to stand up unaided, as he slowly turned to face the young woman standing in the entrance to the church, looking as radiant as the angels in the stained-glass windows above her head.

Her dress was simple, slim, white silk shimmering in the soft light of the church, clinging to each curve and offering a tantalising glimpse of cleavage, a reminder of promises yet to become reality; her hair was gently curled, trailing down her back, eyes softly ringed with black eyeliner and lips luscious with pearly pink lipstick, setting her rouged cheeks glowing. Her hazel-flecked eyes devoured him just as eagerly as his brilliant blue ones did hers, but the moment he focused on them they snapped back to him, her mouth curving into a broad smile at the undisguised hunger on his face.

"Alex… I've ended up marryin' the most beautiful woman in the world," he murmured, moving forwards to take her hand, clutching it hard so she couldn't feel his trembling. He didn't notice Evan moving forwards, a tearful smile on his face, nor Eileen and Stu melting away to take their places in the pews; all he could see was his bride's face, the gentle love in her eyes and the beauty that illuminated her like an aura.

Gene knew in an instant that he would never forget how Alex Price looked the day he made her his wife, and she made him her husband.

"Is it going OK? Is she OK? Is the baby alright? How long-"

"For goodness' sake, Mr Hunt, just go through into the delivery room!"

The doctor's sharp voice provided a perfect prelude to the scream of pain coming from the door to his left, echoing through the aseptic hospital air; Gene winced, his hands clenching on one another, nails red and raw with his constant gnawing and peeling.

"I- I don't want ter see all the blood…"

"There's not much blood, Mr Hunt. I think your wife would really appreciate it if you were in there with her. Childbirth is just as scary for her as it is for you, probably more so, as it is her body at risk."

"GEEENE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOU BASTARD?"

It was all it took for Gene's resolve to stay outside to break, hearing the pure agony in his wife's voice; the doctor had barely had time to react before Gene was running past him into the delivery room, neglecting to even pick his coat up in his desperation to see Alex.

Alex was spread-eagled on the small bed, surrounded by midwives and nurses, gulping lungfuls of gas as though it were the only thing keeping her alive; Gene gently peeled her hand off the side of the bed, turning her head towards him as she squeezed her eyes open to look at him, her mouth curling into a smile for a second before she had to stuff the gas tube back in, whooping another deep breath as Gene's fingers clutched hers tightly.

"Just so yer know, I'm keepin' me eyes up 'ere. Nothin' is goin' ter make me look south."

"You didn't have that bloody problem when you were doing this to me, you bastard!" Alex screeched, her hand clenching on his as another wave of pain ripped through her body. Gene winced, glancing round at the midwives as they exchanged grins, one moving forwards to ease a towel between Alex's legs.

"Your baby's crowning, dear, hopefully not that much longer to go now!" she said in a cheery voice, patting Alex's shoulder as Gene bent to kiss her forehead, smoothing his hand over it to wipe the sheen of sweat away.

"You 'ear that, Alex? Not long now until yer a mother- yer just need ter keep goin', yeah?"

The careful steadiness of his voice managed to keep the nerves out; Alex nodded, opening her eyes again to reach up and caress her husband's cheek, her shaking fingers damp and soft on his flushed skin.

"You don't need to worry, Gene, I'm in safe hands- AHHHH!"

"What? What?" Gene cried, swerving round as Alex's hand crushed his once again; one of the midwives laughed, patting Gene's shoulder maternally as she passed one of her colleagues another towel.

"Don't worry, Mr Hunt, just another contraction. Your baby should be here pretty soon, so don't worry, everything's going according to plan. No sign of any complications or problems, a textbook birth, if you will. Although still painful, right, Mrs Hunt?"

Alex's agonised scream was enough to confirm the last point as one of the midwives pushed the gas back into her patient's mouth, a nurse passing Gene a cloth to mop at Alex's forehead with. He closed his eyes briefly as he pressed the cloth to his wife's sweaty skin, praying to whoever might be listening that everything was alright, Alex would be OK, the baby would be alright, that he would be leaving this hospital a father and a husband and not a widower or a parent bereft of their most precious creation…

A wail rent the air just as Alex relaxed against the bed, the midwife standing between Alex's legs reaching forwards to lift something into the air and wrap it in a towel.

Gene, gasping for breath just as much as his wife lying on the bed, strained to catch his first glimpse of his child, the blood beginning to flow back into his hand as Alex gradually relaxed her hold, still sucking in painkilling gas as quickly as she could.

"It's a girl!"

"A girl," Gene breathed, steadying himself on the bed as the relief made him momentarily light-headed. "A girl, Bolly- we've got a girl! A baby girl!"

"It's a girl?" Alex whispered, struggling upright and ignoring the midwife dabbing at her; Gene gently helped her sit up, propping her up with pillows as the umbilical cord was severed and the baby's second wail sounded in the small room, filling it with life as both new parents' faces broke into broad smiles.

"Here you are," the midwife smiled, leaning forwards to place the baby in Alex's arms, gently pulling the blanket away from the little girl's head to show Gene and Alex their child's face; she was peaceful, a tiny button nose and two huge eyes above a little rosebud mouth, chubby cheeks and a tiny sprinkling of damp hair.

"She's perfect," Alex murmured, lifting a finger to stroke her baby's cheek; Gene slotted an arm behind her, a tiny frown creasing his forehead as he too reached out to his daughter, the tip of his thumb brushing the baby's chin.

"She's… purple."

"Of course she's purple! She's a newborn, newborns sometimes have slightly purple skin when they're born- were you paying attention at all in the neonatal classes, Gene?"

"They never said anything about 'em being purple," Gene muttered, his thumb stroking the child's forehead; Alex glanced up at him, her eyebrows pursed, but at the adoring look on his face the anger fell away. He's worried, that's all. Worried about me and the baby, worried that something's gone wrong, and he can't admit that, so he has to make some stupid remark to get it out.

So instead of yelling at him, she beckoned for him to sit on the side of the bed, gently transferring their daughter into his arms as he perched beside her, easing his hands into position beneath their child as Gene all but gaped at the baby, brilliant blue eyes wide as one little hand wormed its way out from beneath the blanket and wound itself round his finger, barely large enough to grasp the tip of his littlest one.

"She's beautiful," he whispered, leaning his head against Alex's and kissing her cheek as his thumb caressed the little girl's cheek, her downy skin like velvet on his work-worn skin. "Bolly, she's wonderful. She's goin' ter be as beautiful as 'er mother."

Alex beamed, leaning up to press a tired kiss to Gene's chin and take her baby back into her arms, letting Gene draw the blanket up over her as the midwives eased her hospital gown down and covered her legs up, dimming the light in the room to allow Alex some sleep.

"So what do you think? Names wise," Alex said softly, rocking their daughter gently as she snuggled up to Gene, cocooned in his arms. Gene rested his cheek against her head, exhaling into her hair as his finger tickled the baby's nose and she opened her eyes, brilliant blue even in the dim lighting.

"You wanted Molly if it was a girl, didn't yer? Molly Alexandra. She looks like a Molly ter me… Molly Hunt. Molly Hunt, daughter of Bolly Hunt."

"Eugene Hunt, you are incorrigible. Mrs Hingston was right about you all those years ago, you're a bad influence, I should have steered clear of you as soon as I had the chance."

"Oh, too late now, love. The ring's on yer finger an' the bun's just come out o' the oven… bloody 'ell, Bolly, me a father. I never ever thought it."

"You underestimate yourself. This little girl is going to grow up so happy, Gene. We're going to be so happy."

Alex paused, looking down at the child in her arms, sinking into the mattress with tiredness even as her eyes shone with utter delight.

"Gene… I want to give her another middle name. But only if it's alright with you."

"Yer know it will. Shoot."

"Molly Alexandra… Caroline."

Gene's lips found their way to Alex's neck, nuzzling up to her ear, over her cheeks, and finally to her lips as he pressed a kiss so gentle to his wife's mouth that a tear trickled down from her eyes.

"If yer want, Bolly. If yer want ter honour yer mother's memory, I 'ave no problem at all with that. None at all."

The smile she gave him could only have been described as glorious.

He waited until Alex had fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder, and then gently took little Molly from her limp arms and cradled her against her mother's chest, humming a lullaby his mother had sung to him so long ago as his daughter slept peacefully and his wife drifted through the slumber of the wondrously happy, the edges of her mouth tipped up even deep in unconsciousness.

"Oh, hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight, thy mother a lady, both lovely an' bright, the woods an' the glens, from the towers we see, they all are belongin', dear baby, to thee…"

"Every night, Gene. Every night, for a week. Don't think I haven't noticed. You can't carry on like this, Gene- you're exhausted, you can't even put the cutlery away properly, the knives are in the spoon bracket and I don't even want to know how Molly's cup ended up in the freezer. She misses you, you know. I bloody miss you."

"I'm a DI now, Bolly. I've got ter work or I'll never make DCI in time ter get the post in London." Gene yawned widely, leaning back in his chair to face Alex and rubbing his tired eyes, aching from the glare of his computer screen. "I promised I'd take Molly ter the zoo this weekend, we can catch up then. All of us."

"You're just working yourself out, Gene. DCI Fox as good as said you'd be first choice for the post as it is. You just don't want to think, do you?"

Gene stiffened, the hand sneaking back towards the keyboard clenching into a fist as Alex moved forwards, stroking his hair back from his eyes and turning his head to face her as her other hand saved Gene's Word document and shut the computer down, plunging them both into darkness. Gene dipped his head, staring at his lap.

"You've been like this ever since the funeral, working all hours to get the post you were going to get anyway. Sam really misses you, you used to spend so much time with him. Molly thinks she's done something wrong, that you don't want to do things with her-"

"Why would she think that?" Gene stared at Alex wildly, his eyes wide with shock; his wife enveloped him in a hug, rubbing his back as she picked the tumbler of whisky up from the desk and downed it herself, wincing at the sting as it burned its way down her throat.

"You've been avoiding her, haven't you, you silly man? Go on, go and tuck her in, she's just had her bath so she'll be playing and waiting for her story. She asked for you tonight."

Gene faltered, making to stand up and sitting back almost as one movement, reaching towards the computer and snatching his hand back as Alex glared at him.

"You leave this computer alone, Gene Hunt. Go upstairs and read Molly a story and get her off to sleep, and then come back down and we'll talk. OK?"

"I'd rather go ter bed, Bolls… can get up early ter do some work tomorrow mornin' before I 'ead off-"

"That's it. The computer's going in the garage."

Alex pushed him away and onto the floor, unplugging the computer and hauling the tower into her arms before Gene could struggle to his feet, striding forwards to grab at the computer and grunting as Alex snatched it back, the two of them tussling over it until Alex fumbled it and it crashed to the floor, the screen smashing.

"Now look!" Gene roared, dropping to his knees to check the tower over; Alex tried to force his hands away, but he yanked his arms out of her grasp, fighting her until she finally stood up, glaring down her nose at him in the gloom of the lounge.

"Fine. You play silly buggers with your precious computer and I'll go and read Molly to sleep, just like I have done for the past two weeks. And don't blame me when she thinks her own father doesn't want anything to do with her!"

She stormed towards the doorway, face flushed with anger, hands clenched into fists by her side.

A younger, less experienced Gene Hunt might have let her go. But Gene had learnt from his mistakes with Alex. She was ballsy, perhaps even braver than him in some ways, facing her demons head-on as he shrank away from his, drowning them with alcohol and comfort-food as he had done in his late teens. She wasn't afraid to tell him what she thought of him, and though she rarely sought out confrontation, when it came, she most certainly wasn't shy, screaming until the rafters shook and the couple in the house next door poked their heads round the door to ask them to keep it down as their son was trying to sleep. He hated the icy silences, the locked bedroom door that gave him no choice but to sleep in the spare room or on Molly's futon, the note on the fridge door that said she had gone to work early and that it was his responsibility to get Molly to school on time. He was also cognisant, as a father who refused to let his children's childhood turn out like his, of the effect it had on Molly, who at five years old was almost uncanny in the way she picked up on the tense atmosphere and the cold looks; he had grown up in a silent, strained household, ever aware of the fact that the smallest mistake could lead to all three of them being beaten, always healing from some injury or another, always blaming himself somewhere deep inside. Alex had begun the process of taming his demons, identifying them, classifying them and muzzling them, starting him off on the path to relative happiness, and the idea of that anchor vanishing, even just for the night, made Gene's chest physically ache.

Alex's hand was on the door. Now or never.

"Alex- I'm sorry."

His voice was quiet, his usual confidence shattered like the computer screen lying broken in front of him; he barely even had time to turn around before Alex was holding him, her tears soaking into his hair, pressing his head to her shoulder and holding him close as he eased them both up and over towards the sofa, wiping the tears from her cheeks as they fell, like he had done long ago for the little girl mourning her parents, sitting in her bathroom with her heart in pieces as he taught her all the swear words he could think of in a bid to help her. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.

"I just- I don't want ter think about it, Bolly… I know she was in pain. An'… I wonder sometimes- if she didn't want me an' Stu there… if she didn't want us ter see 'er weak. I don't know if we did the right thing by stayin' with 'er."

"If she hadn't wanted you there, Gene, she would've said. You know that. She wanted her little boys holding her hand as she died, she wanted some reassurance. She may have been in pain, Gene, but that doesn't mean she wasn't peaceful. It would've disappeared before the- before the very end. I promise, when her eyes closed, she was at peace. Promise."

She didn't need her psychology training to know that Gene wanted to keep his face hidden, so she carried on without raising his head, her hand stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck as she talked, resting him against her just as he had cushioned her in a dark cellar long ago, supporting and comforting in the oldest way known to man: simple contact.

"She was content to die, she'd had a long life and much of it had been good. She had the two people she loved most in the world with her and that meant she could die a happy woman. They had her on pain relief, didn't they? As much as they could manage. There wouldn't have been much pain. I know you don't want to think about it, nobody would, but it doesn't have to be painful, Gene- think of the happy times, like when she saw you after you saved my life, the first time she held Molly, when she comforted you at our wedding. Yeah? That's the way forward."

Gently shifting around, she eased them both down to lying on the sofa, Gene half on top of her; he tried to protest, hissing that he'd squash her, but she ignored him, holding him in place until he stopped squirming and lay still, reaching up to clasp one of her hands in his as she bent her head to kiss his crown, breathing in the musky smell of aftershave and tangy shampoo and simply him that she would never get tired of.

"Tell me about her. A memory you have of her. Anything at all. Tell me."

She felt his body stiffen against hers, his breathing hitch, and for a moment she thought he would refuse, would pull away from her, go upstairs and lock himself in their bedroom to spend the night cold and alone in the too-big bed as she had done too many times previously; but then he gave a long, heavy sigh and raised his head to look at her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight coming in through the open curtains.

"I was… 'bout four, I think. I'd fallen over in the street, grazed my knees an' my 'ands, grit everywhere- an' I'd lost my toy police car, the one I got fer Christmas from my gran. I loved that car so much. Mam picked me up an' took me 'ome, put plasters on my grazes an' promised me she'd get my car back, but I 'ad ter stay inside 'cos it was rainin' an' she didn't want me catchin' cold. She searched fer hours in the rain, an' when she eventually found it an' came back I'd fallen asleep in front of the TV. She took me up ter bed, but I woke up halfway up the stairs… I opened my eyes an' Mam was there, carryin' me, an' she just smiled at me an' dropped my police car on my stomach. I woke Stu up with my squealin', couldn't stop sayin' thank you."

There were tears in Alex's eyes, a wobbly smile on her face as she stroked his cheek, holding him as closely as she could, delighting in the feel of his breathing against her body, the gentle heartbeat thudding through her stomach. Gene barely noticed, far away, his gaze abstract as he opened his mouth to speak again, still holding onto his wife's hand as his sole anchor to the real world, the only reminder that someone was listening, he wasn't alone.

He spoke of the day he and Stu had taught their mother how to bowl with their grandfather's old bowling set, only for her to practise in secret when they were at school and thrash them completely when she challenged them to a game at the weekend. The day she turned up at their school an hour after she'd dropped them off to collect them again, taking them to the park to meet their uncle and spend the day with him instead. The day she took them to a china glazing shop and had mugs made with their names on for them to have their bedtime milk out of, and couldn't help treating them to matching plates and bowls too, even though it meant she had to work for hours doing overtime the next day. The day Gene's father had thrown an empty whisky bottle at him and knocked him out, and his mother had spent the entire night on the floor beside him in hospital, holding his hand, only leaving his side to tell the nurses when his drip feed needed changing or ask for the doctor to change the dressing on her son's head. He spoke of her devotion to her sons, her calm authority and robust sense of humour, her faith and bravery and intelligence and strength in the face of domestic violence, misery, and finally the cancer that had claimed her. By the time he had managed to talk himself out, he was hoarse, shaking with grief even as the dull pain in his chest began to lighten and his wife's touch brought him ever so slightly back to life.

"Daddy?"

They both jumped at the small voice coming from the doorway, light spilling into the lounge as the door squeaked open; Molly stepped into the room, clutching her cuddly toy dog under one arm and her favourite storybook under the other, eyes widening as she saw the look on Gene's face.

"Daddy, are you crying?"

"No. No, petal, I'm not cryin'," Gene said bravely, easing himself up and holding an arm out to his daughter. Molly immediately moved over to join in the cuddle, snuggling up to her mother and resting her head against her father's arm, watching him with eyes so gentle Gene's throat closed up and he had to turn away to prevent her seeing the single tear that snaked down his cheek.

"We'll 'ave a cuddle 'ere fer five minutes, an' then we'll go upstairs an' I'll read ter yer. OK, petal?"

"OK, Daddy," Molly yawned, curling up and cuddling her toy dog, closing her eyes as her mother started stroking her hair. A second small head poked round the door, thumb in mouth, and Alex craned round to smile at her young son, holding her hand out to beckon him onto the sofa as well and squeeze him into his parents' embrace.

Within two minutes they were all fast asleep.

He had been here for two days straight now, refusing to leave his friend's side, sleeping on a cot next to his hospital bed, only emerging into the city for quick forays to Gregg's for food or HMV for the odd 80s rock CD to put on his sound system he'd brought in specially from home. Most of them he was sure the family had somewhere anyway, Alex was no shrinking violet when it came to music, but she had enough on her mind as it was and he didn't want to load any extra burdens on her.

DI Hansen had caught the culprit a day later, accompanying him to the cells of Bethnal Green CID as each and every police officer there stared on with pure loathing in their eyes. He'd felt out of place there, a Mancunian copper in the strange world of the Met, but Alex had explained that he was a friend of the family and nobody seemed to mind him cluttering up the place occasionally.

The investigation would be going to court soon; it had been a careless crime, the blood-stained weapon barely even hidden beneath a scrubby bush only a few yards away from where the victim had been found. He'd practically confessed in interview, attempting to strangle the officer in charge of the investigation and completely undermining his own alibi by claiming he was watching a programme shown two days earlier. It was just a waiting game now, to see whether the surgeons' efforts had been enough. Waiting and praying.

The doctor's report had been so clinical, cold even. Coma, severe trauma, internal bleeding, uncertain prognosis. Only one thing had been for sure: the smallest problem could be it, could end the life of the father and husband sleeping peacefully in the small white room, surrounded by people who loved him but unable to even squeeze his wife's hand. His daughter would cup his hand instead, tell her mother to close her eyes and squeeze his fingers so that the poor woman could kid herself that it was him instead, and that when she opened her eyes his would be staring back at her, his mouth curved in that teasing half-smile that they all loved so much.

Sighing, Sam stood, walking over to the bed as the CD finished and the whirr of the sound system died away. The green plastic chair by the bed held a couple of cardigans, Molly's Nintendo DS, his younger namesake's PSP; he scooped them up, placing them on the bag Alex had brought in and sitting down wearily, reaching out to touch his friend's arm, brushing a drip feed out of the way.

"Can't yer wake up? Yer missin' so much… been three days now. The doc wanted yer ter rest, but this isn't quite what 'e 'ad in mind, yer daft bastard."

The hiss of the ventilator was his only answer. Sam closed his eyes, his hand clenching on the warm flesh beneath it, thumb brushing against the rough blankets over his friend's midriff.

"Still, least I've got a trip ter London out of it. Don't much like it, but well, some variety… especially after yer left. Barely see yer. You an' the kids, an' Alex… like ruddy strangers. Just the odd e-mail and phone calls when yer got the time. I don't blame yer fer comin' down 'ere, it was a great step in yer career, but… yer left a lot behind, yer know. The GMP 'asn't been the same."

He sniffed, yanking his handkerchief from his pocket and blowing his nose, levering himself off the chair and padding into the corridor to gel his hands. A doctor headed into the little room, bearing a clipboard and a trolley, and Sam thought it best to stay away for a moment, waiting until the doctor had re-emerged and given him the nod to slip back in and seat himself by the bed again, somewhat glad that the doctor had made the effort to shave his patient.

"Make sure yer presentable fer Alex an' the kids, eh? Remember that stake-out in 1996, I had ter shave you 'cos yer managed ter cut yer 'and on some broken glass catchin' the bastard… didn't want Alex seein' yer unshaven an' covered in blood. I never told yer, but I told the Guv yer'd lost enough blood ter merit a day at 'ome so you could spend it in bed with Alex an' Molly."

Sam gently lifted his friend's hand, turning it over to run his fingers over the deep scars on the palm, bright white against the hot red skin.

"An' when yer stayed with me fer the night once an' I lost my tie, my best tie kept specially fer a meetin' with the Super, an' the pair of us turned the place upside down lookin' fer it an' you eventually discovered it under the sofa cushions. It was all crumpled, I was in despair, so you told me ter go an' get ready an' when I came back you'd ironed it ter perfection. Even let me borrow yer aftershave. I was so grateful, I'd spent the 'ole day an' most o' the night preparin' fer the presentation… you fell asleep midway through, I'd exhausted yer gettin' yer ter listen ter it over an' over again until five in the mornin'. I felt so guilty."

He chuckled to himself, gently placing the hand back down on the starched sheets and easing the bandage over the cannula back into place.

"Yer need ter wake up in time fer yer weddin' anniversary, eh? An' bloody 'ell, if yer decide that's the day ter pop yer clogs, I will never forgive yer. Soon as I'm behind those pearly gates with yer yer'll 'ave my right 'ook ter contend with… assumin' we both go ter 'eaven. I will, I'm a nice person- not sure about you. With the tales yer mam told me up in Manchester…"

The faintest of smiles flickered over the sleeping man's face.

"Can yer 'ear me? Yer can 'ear me…" Sam breathed, carefully placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, shaking gently as he watched him breathing softly on, the ECG monitor bleeping an increase in his pulse. "Come on, mate. Come on. Make or break time?"

Please, he begged silently, his heart in his mouth as he watched for any meagre movement, any hint of life. Please come back ter us. I don't think Alex would survive if you didn't make it. Yer kids… come back fer yer kids. Please.

But as hard as he willed it, as desperately as he wanted it, as tightly as his teeth clenched in determination that his friend would hear him, nothing more came. Sam could only watch as he sank into obliviousness once again, his pulse slowing, completely still beneath the glaring lights as Sam stared helplessly, angrily brushing away the single tear threatening to slide down his cheek. He had to stay strong. He had to, because if he didn't, who would?

"Any change?"

He tucked the sheets round his friend's stomach before he turned, wanting him to be presentable, even if not awake. A small hand tucked itself into his and he pulled the young girl towards him, hugging her from behind as she gazed down at her father, tears tumbling onto her pink top even as her lips thinned with stony-faced determination.

"It's OK, Molly. 'E smiled at me not a minute ago."

"Did he?" Alex whispered, bending slowly to ease herself onto the plastic seat and taking her husband's hand, stroking his arm up to the elbow as her chin wobbled ever so slightly. "I bet he did. You're strong, right, darling? You'll show the doctors. You will. I know you will."

She leaned down to press a kiss to his open mouth, her lips brushing ventilator tube and cool skin, a single tear splashing onto his cheek as she sat back up, staring down at the bed as though it contained her whole world. Which, she knew, could easily be true.

Her hand travelled up to press itself to his forehead, his scruffy hair rough and his pale skin soft against her fingers, a perfect duet, just as her husband was.

Molly and Sam moved closer, Sam reaching out to touch his father's shoulder and Molly taking his hand as Alex smiled sorrowfully down at him, eyes bright with love and tears.

"Gene, my darling, I know you'll come home to us soon. We miss you, all of us do, we want you back, and don't worry, we're surviving. We'll survive until you come back to us. But until then- I hope you're happy."

A/N: Goodbye, Youngsters. *sad face* You will be missed!

Yes, this one got very long- and I've cut scenes from it, believe it or not! I just so wanted to prolong writing it a little. So please, please remember to review my longest chapter ever, and be nice to me.

Auf Wiedersehen, jungen Gene und Alex… (Goodbye, young Gene and Alex…) Jazzola :D