Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. I don't.

Renewed thanks to all readers and reviewers! Please keep the comments coming in and I promise to respond, though I might be delayed a day or so by the long-promised delivery of a new PC.

This is by way of being a marking-time chapter after all the recent cliffhangers. We get up to narrative speed again in the next chapter!

Even though she had expected it, Alex was profoundly relieved when she awakened back in 2008. Having made two journeys to 1982 and back, she thought as she settled back on her pillows, I think I can consider myself a paid-up Stravagante. She had to hope that her disappearance from 1982 had not shocked Gene too much. He'll have to get used to it. As I will.

She got up, unlocked the door, put the ring on her bedside table, got back into bed, and slipped into a heavy sleep until her alarm clock awakened her. Molly put her head round the door, took one look, and told her to stay where she was.

"You look wrecked, Mum. Those sleeping tablets must be evil. You should stay there and have your sleep out. I'll bring you some breakfast before I go."

Alex was too tired to argue. Having only devoured scallops with pineapple rings a few hours before, she didn't really want any breakfast, but fortunately Molly limited her catering to fruit juice, cereal and coffee, which Alex found she could manage without too much difficulty. She waited until Molly had left for school, then set her alarm clock for 4.00 and sank into fathomless slumber. She got up, feeling somewhat refreshed, in time to greet Molly on her return from school and to cook her supper, but Molly, evidently still concerned by her continued exhaustion, fairly ordered her to go to bed early.

"But, Mols, I'm no use to you while I'm spending all my time in bed. It's not being fair on you."

"You're not being fair on yourself, Mum. You're trying to run before you can walk. You'll only put yourself back in hospital if you push yourself too hard."

That gave her pause. If I go back to hospital I won't be able to stravagate, and Gene will be in trouble all over again. She went to bed without further argument, set her alarm for two hours ahead, and snatched another couple of hours' sleep before the alarm awakened her. She took the ring in her hand and went back to sleep, thinking of Gene.

Having stravagated at 7.30pm 2008 time, she expected to arrive in 1982 around 7.30am. To her surprise, when she opened her eyes and squinted at her alarm clock, it was still only 5.30.

Don't know how that's happened, but it could help me get more sleep when I'm stravagating. Will I have 26 hours in every day by sharing my time between 1982 and 2008? I'll have to check what the books say.

Gene lay on his back, snoring fit to wake the dead. Knowing how exhausted he must be, she hated to disturb him, but she guessed that he would want to know as soon as she was back. She bent over him and kissed him until he stirred beneath her.

"Bols?" he murmured onto her lips. Just the way he said the one syllable of her nickname conveyed all his boundless relief at her return.

"Only me, Gene. I said I'd be back as soon as I could. Go back to sleep. We both need it."

"Somethin' else I need..." he mumbled, pulling her down beside him. She laughed softly as he fumbled with the buttons of her nightshirt. Afterwards, she settled to sleep beside him until the alarm awakened them both, to the accompaniment of a series of picturesque curses from Gene.

When I first met him, I never would have thought that I could be so glad to hear him swear first thing in the morning.

Over breakfast, she nibbled a corner of toast while plying him with black coffee.

"You should be eating more, Bols. Want more meat on your r-r-r-rump."

"I'll hardly be able to avoid it," she sighed. "The trouble with this double life business is that people expect me to eat in both worlds. I only had fishcakes and chips with Molly about four hours ago."

"How did you find Molly?"

"Fine. She was worried that I was still so tired, so I spent most of the day catching up on my sleep, plus a couple more hours before I stravagated." She resolved not to mention the apparent time difference until she had done more research. "How much sleep did you have last night?"

"Not much," he admitted. "Couldn't get used to seeing my DI disappear like somethin' out of the Paul Daniels Show."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry, love, I'll get used to it. Anyway, we've got to 'ave some serious words before I go on duty today."

"Before we go on duty," she said dangerously.

"You're still not well. Can't say 'ow glad I am you stravvyed today, but I think you should spend the rest of the day catchin' upon your sleep, either 'ere or in 2008. You said you're signed off sick in 2008, well, I'm signin' you off today."

"No, Gene."

"Don't you "no" me, Drake! Just because you can vanish in a puff of smoke every time you fall asleep, it doesn't give you the right to defy your superior officer - "

"Gene, listen to me, or I will vanish!" His face creased with rage, but for a split second she caught the unimaginable hurt in his eyes. She reached out to him, and he angrily flicked her hand away. At that moment she hated both herself and him.

He's been through hell this past fortnight. He admitted it last night.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But neither should you. I hoped you thought better of me. I'm never again going to hold it over you that I can go back to my other life now."

"Sorry," he muttered sullenly, not meeting her eyes.

"We've gone through so much to get back together. We mustn't spoil it now. We can't be together without arguing. It brings out the best and the worst in us. But we must never use it to hurt each other. Not like this."

He looked up at her, and she saw how his pride warred with his longing to be reconciled with her.

"I know you want to look after me. But you aren't out of the wood yet. If you turn up at the station without me, it'll only give Hattie and Foxy an excuse to get suspicious again. Until you've closed the investigation into my disappearance, whither thou goest, I goest. I've been allowed to stravagate because I'm needed here to clear you. That's how it goes. If you like, I have to earn it. By being with you, and covering you while you run the investigation."

He nodded reluctantly, accepting that she was right but hating to lose the argument.

"Okay. Before we go on duty," he said heavily.

And that's as close as I'll get to an apology. But that's Gene. I can accept that.

"Right."

"Anyway, as I was saying, we've got to 'ave some serious words. About the investigation."

"I know I can't take any active role in it. That would look suspicious. I've just got to be with you and the team, so that people can see where I am and what I'm doing. Put me onto paperwork if you like, but I have to be seen."

"Point taken," he said, slightly mollified. "You've got to be there. But it's goin' to be tough while we're investigating your kidnap story. I'll 'ave to go through your statement wi' a fine tooth comb, an' you'll 'ave to stick to your story like an Exocet to the Belgrano. If we don't, you're right that Foxy an' Hattie'll smell a rat."

"I only hope I can remember what I said. I was making it up as I went along."

"Good job I told Shaz to make an extra carbon copy, then," he said innocently, producing a folded sheet of paper from his inside breast pocket and handing it to her. "This is your crib sheet to read, mark, learn an' inwardly digest at your leisure. Keep it 'ere, not at work."

"Gene Genius," she said admiringly.

"Famed for it, Bolly." She smiled at the use of her nickname, knowing that it was his way of forgiving her for her part in their spat. "Give it a read before we leave. I should be gettin' reports during the day, and I'll 'ave to quiz you about 'em."

"I feel awful about the amount of police time and money that's going to be wasted on this."

"Don't feel like a cheerleader about it meself, but I've 'ad years in this job to know the times when the truth won't do, an' this is one of them. The important thing is to get a good lie. We'll 'ave to do our best."

"By the way, I'm sorry I'll have to disgrace you by wearing this - what did you call it, a Tate Gallery reject? - but it's all I have until Forensics return my things."

"Same 'ere. I've been wearin' this suit an' shirt since I was arrested. I'll stick a Roman candle in someone's arse if our stuff's not back today."

"And the Quattro."

"Too bloody right. You 'ave my permission to go out an' get replacement clothin' at lunchtime. Get me a new shirt while you're about it."

She laughed, threw the other half of her toast at him, and went to get ready.

It was so blissfully familiar to be walking along to the station with him, to be sitting at her desk again beneath the checkerboard lighting. Everyone looked at her and treated her as though she were the Holy Grail. Shaz made endless cups of tea for her, and even Ray made a point of coming across to her desk and asking how she was. She hoped that this might be the beginning of a better working relationship with him. Gene, ensconced in his office, took merciless advantage of her offer to do paperwork and sent out piles of files for her attention. She got on with them, outwardly grumbling but secretly relieved not to be involved in anything taxing straight away.

Shortly before lunchtime, Gene put his head round his office door. "Drake. My office. Now."

He motioned to her to sit down, carefully closed the door, and said quietly, "Forensics and medical reports from yesterday are back."

"Oh." They couldn't be overheard with the door closed, but they would have to be careful what they said. If Ray or Chris blundered in without knocking, it could ruin everything. "Did they find anything?"

"Yes." He reached for one report and turned the pages. "Forensics are surprised that your clothes were so clean, given that you'd been missing for a fortnight. Nothin' but some pale blue woollen fibres, probably from a blanket. I know you can't remember much, but do you remember whether those were the clothes you were wearin' when you were snatched?" He bent his head close to hers, making it look as though he was showing her something in the report, and murmured, "Don't know much 'bout birds' duds, but I know nothin' of yours was missin'. You brought those with you."

"So far as I remember, yes, they were." She leaned in close and murmured back, "The blanket on my bed at home is pale blue. I lay down on it fully dressed to stravagate." He nodded.

"Some bright spark 'as suggested that whoever snatched you took 'em from you while you were bein' 'eld prisoner an' washed 'em to destroy all forensic evidence before dressin' you in 'em an' turnin' you loose. D'you think that at all likely?"

Taking her cue, she shook her head. "I really can't remember enough to say. If I was wearing anything else during that time, I don't know what it was."

He reached for the other report. "Medics are surprised that you were so clean too. They can't make 'ead nor tail of what was used to stitch your wound, they say they've never seen anythin' like it. They reckon it must 'ave been done by some gifted amateur, usin' whatever materials 'e 'ad to 'and."

Alex murmured, "In my day the stitches don't need to be removed. They just dissolve."

"Bloody 'ell. They found a single needle mark on your arm, so it looks like you were sedated some of the time. No traces of sedatives in your blood, just proprietary painkillers. Nothin' to make you lose your memory, so that must 'ave been shock from the shooting. Foxy could be right for the first time in 'is distinguished career."

Alex considered for a moment, trying to remember when rohypnol had first become available. "There are drugs around which can cause memory loss," she said cautiously, testing his reaction.

"Yeah. Roofies. I've heard of 'em." Gene's face hardened. "An' I know what they're used for."

"The correct medical term is rohypnol. Flunitrazepam. Roche make it," said Alex, warming to her theme. "It was first developed for hospitals to use for deep sedation, but unfortunately it's also used, or rather abused, to spike rape victims' drinks. It disappears from the body very quickly, so the victim has no evidence after the event."

"Well, thank Christ the medics were able to confirm that you weren't - " he struggled to say it - "assaulted."

"No." She gently laid a reassuring hand over his.

"'Course, I knew that once you were back," he muttered very low, "but while you were away - " He cleared his throat, and went on, "So you're suggesting that you might 'ave been fed roofies while you were being 'eld? An' that's why you can't remember anything, including 'aving a bath an' your clothes bein' cleaned?"

"It's known to induce anterograde amnesia in sufficient doses," said Alex carefully. Seeing his exasperated expression, she added, "Loss of memory of what happens after the event that causes amnesia. It can also cause sleepiness the day after taking it."

"Sounds convincing," said Gene thoughtfully. "Lucky you didn't 'ave enough to get 'ooked on it."

"Very lucky," said Alex, keeping her voice neutral.

"An' being fed stuff like that would fit wi' me suggestion that someone wi' medical knowledge was involved. Along with your funny stitchin'."

"Quite so."

"Drake, I think we 'ave a theory 'ere." They looked at each other with complete understanding. The moment was broken by a peal from the telephone. He wrenched it from the cradle. "HUNT! Yes - where? Right - on our way!" He hung up and turned back to Alex. "Armed jewellery blag, Leather Lane. Robbery wi' violence. Come on!"

"But it's nearly lunchtime, and I was going clothes shopping - " she wailed.

"Bugger that!" He grabbed his overcoat, flung the door open, bellowed instructions to Ray and Chris, and surged out of the office with Alex at his heels and the other two close behind. They threw themselves into the despised "rust bucket" and it took off like a guided missile.

The A-team are back in business, she thought contentedly. With any luck, a new case will mean that there's less time to spare investigating my disappearance. We're back to normal.

TBC