Thanks to everyone for the great reviews

'But I don't want to go among mad people,' said Alice. 'Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. 'We're all mad here.
(Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

Chapter 10

Gene looked nervously at his watch and then glanced around the small but tidy waiting room. It was over a week now since he and Alex had spent that blissful night on the boat but now reality and the demands of re-establishing a normal working life were beginning to kick in. Truth be told he'd rather be back on the boat with Alex and Molly, which is where they had spent most of the past week, rather than here. In fact he'd rather be just about anywhere else at all.

"Dr Deacon won't be too much longer now Mr Hunt." The receptionist smiled encouragingly at him from behind the desk.

"Thanks love."

The receptionist raised her eyebrows slightly and Gene wondered what he'd said wrong now. Not that he was too bothered as he had plenty of other stuff on his mind – including his imminent meeting with Dr Deacon, clinical psychologist. Alex had tried to allay his concerns, saying that it was all part of the rehabilitation process but if they all thought he was going to spill his guts like some bloody big girl's blouse, then they had another thing coming. It might be part of the Met's grand scheme to get him back to work but a man still had his dignity.

"Mr Hunt?"

Gene looked up as a smartly dressed blonde woman with glasses perched on the end of her nose called his name.

"That would be me."

"Come with me please."

He followed her into the deceptively spacious consulting room and watched as she sat behind her desk and began to tap into her computer. Gene looked around the room and fidgeted uneasily as he waited. The room was lined with books and small pieces of artwork and there were a couple of Chesterfield armchairs as well a pot of coffee bubbling in the corner. Not really what he had expected.

"You can sit down Superintendent Hunt. It is Superintendent isn't it?"

"Apparently."

"I won't be a minute."

"Listen Miss…."

She looked at him over the top of her spectacles. "My name is Dr Anna Deacon – you can call me Anna if it makes you feel more comfortable."

"Look, I'm not really sure what I'm really doing 'ere."

Dr Deacon smiled. "I have that feeling most days. However, in your case I think we can safely say that you're here today so that we can talk about how you're getting on since your release from hospital and to discuss how we can get you back to work as quickly as possible. Does that sound reasonable?"

Gene frowned but couldn't really find anything to fault in her explanation. "Suppose."

"Good, then why don't we sit down and have a chat and figure out an action plan for getting you up and running again." She picked up a filed from the desk and then made her way to one of the armchairs, indicating that Gene should sit opposite. "Your superior officers are very keen to have you back to work in some shape or form as quickly as possible."

"They are?" he said with some surprise. He'd imagined they might be glad to see the back of him.

"Indeed," she said consulting the file, "Commander Truman is particularly effusive in his praise of your ability but also the Borough Commander and your Chief Superintendent are very keen to see you back at work."

Gene nodded. "Well, that's good." Reluctantly he sat down opposite her, still twitching uneasily. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna spill me guts and blab like a baby for yer."

She chuckled and then leaned forward in her seat. "As edifying a spectacle as that would be for me Mr Hunt, it's definitely not compulsory – but don't let me stop you should the mood take you. Although talking is part of the therapy, what we talk about is completely up to you. I'm not a psychiatrist or a counsellor in that respect."

"What do you do then?"

"Well, as a clinical psychologist I'm here to assess your progress and recovery from your head injury and to help you understand any limitations or brain damage that may have occurred. Neuro-psychology is my specialist area and so I concentrate on patients who have undergone brain injury and trauma. Like yourself."

"Right. What happens now then?"

"Now, we have an initial chat, talk about any worries or physical symptoms you may have and plan how to get you back to work. You do want to return to work?"

"Too bloody right I do. I'd go back today if they'd 'ave me."

"That's good news. What about physically – do you feel capable of a return to work? It's quite a demanding job I understand."

"Bloody fit as a flea me," Gene said defiantly.

Dr Deacon simply arched her brow slightly as she looked at him and then scribbled something in her notes. "I see."

"Well…apart from feeling a bit tired – but that's only natural right?"

"Correct – and nothing to be worried about at this stage."

"That's what Alex said."

"Alex?"

"My wi…I mean girlfriend. She's a psychologist an' all."

"Really? How interesting. Where does she practice? Maybe I know her?"

"Dunno. She's a police officer though."

"Ah – criminal psychology then. A fascinating area I imagine. Do you live together?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you live alone or with your girlfriend?"

"Bit of both since the coma," he said hesitantly. He wasn't really sure if he was going to mention all the spooky dooky coma stuff yet – would she believe him or have him carted off to the funny farm? "She's got a daughter so we see each other when we can. And…"

"Yes?"

"Well, she's had a bit of a rough time lately. She was shot in the head by some bastard and only just lived to tell the tale."

"Good Lord – you two have been in the wars. I take it then, that Alex must also be undergoing some sort of counselling?"

"She's got an appointment next week I think. Although she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get back to work – not that I'm bothered about that."

"Every case is different Mr Hunt. A lot can depend on what type of injury was sustained, which area of the brain was injured and a hundred other factors."

"Right."

"Well the good news for you is that your psychometric test results are mostly in the normal range," she flicked through the file, "numerical and verbal reasoning are good, although your logical reasoning and non-verbal reasoning are slightly impaired."

"Is that bad?"

"Not bad per se and quite understandable given your particular head injury. There is a possibility that they will improve over time. Of course the main symptom remains your retrograde memory loss. Has there been any improvement?"

"Not really no." Gene paused and wrestled with the conundrum of telling her exactly what had happened. Maybe she could explain it all? "Thing is…"

"Yes?"

"Thing is, I don't know what's a real memory and what's not."

"I don't understand."

"This is going to sound bloody crazy – you'll cart me off to the funny farm."

She smiled indulgently. "That's not how it works these days I can assure you." She took off her glasses and looked at her patient. He seemed like a reasonable enough man but she could tell that he was wrestling with some conundrum, hiding something that could help in his future treatment. "I can't help you unless you help yourself Gene – and anything you say in this room remains totally confidential between the two of us."

"You sure?"

"I promise. I couldn't do my job here if that weren't so. So if you're worried about your employers finding out then let me put your mind at rest. They won't hear about it from me. All they get is a general report on your health and some indication of a treatment plan and when they might expect to see you back at work."

"Can I walk?"

"Sorry?"

"Feels better when I walk about a bit."

"Of course."

Gene stood up and began to pace around the office. He wandered over to the window and looked outside. Not much to see really. The office was located in a Georgian terrace in Harley Street, neatly kept with cars parked in bays on either side of the road. He watched as a little girl in a red dress skipped along the pavement, holding onto what he presumed was her father's hand.

"I was in a coma," he said softly.

Dr Deacon remained silent but smiled encouragingly, even though he had his back towards her.

"I was in a coma but…it was like I was awake – I thought I was awake."

"Like a dream."

He shook his head. "No. Better than a dream. It felt real." He turned around and faced her. "I could feel things, touch things, taste things. It felt real to me."

"I see. Go on."

"It was…it was like real life. The people I met all seemed real to me – they all had their lives and went about their business like normal people. I was living my life too – in the coma."

"What sort of life?"

He smiled wryly. "You're never gonna believe this."

"Try me."

"Well, for a start it wasn't 2008."

"Oh." She leaned forward.

"I can't really pinpoint what year it was when I first landed there but I remember some of the sixties, the seventies and the early eighties. That's what I meant about not knowing what's real and what I remember from the coma. I lived this whole life in a different time – I worked hard, got married, looked after me mother – and now I don't know what's real and what's not."

"I see." She pursed her lips slightly as she digested what she had just heard. "Of course it could be both – real and unreal."

"Eh?"

"I mean that your memories of your coma life could include some memories that are real. Your brain will have been fighting to repair itself, restore connections – there's no reason at all why some of the things you remember didn't actually happen or why some of the people you met, you actually knew from your real life."

"So I'm not going mad then?"

"No you're not going mad. Not today at least."

He smiled tentatively. "That's good news anyway."

"If you let me, I'm going to try and help you through this and with a bit of luck we'll separate fact from fiction. But its still early days – you shouldn't be too hard on yourself."

"That's what Alex says."

"She sounds like a very intelligent woman – you should take notice."

"You psychologists ganging up on me?"

"Not psychologists Mr Hunt – women."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later that morning Gene was still brooding over the implications of his visit with Dr Deacon, but luckily his passenger seemed completely oblivious to his introspective mood. Molly was happily distracted as they sat in traffic on their way to rendezvous with Alex.

"You alright in the back there Molls?" Gene said finally.

"What? Oh…fine," she said distractedly.

Gene turned around to see what was keeping Molly so unusually quiet. "What you got there?"

"This," she said brandishing a familiar multi-coloured cube. "I can't really see the point of it but I won't let it beat me."

"Rubik's Cube?" Gene took the proffered toy and began to explore each facet carefully. Annoyingly brief flashes of memory tugged at his brain and his fingers began to automatically twist the sections of the cube this way and that.

"Mum was scrabbling around in the loft and she came across it in a pile of other junk. She seemed quite excited about it."

"Used to be all the fashion. I remember when Chris …"

Molly stared inquisitively as Gene stopped mid-sentence. "When what?"

"Err, I mean I remember someone always playing with one of these – long time ago."

"In the eighties?"

"Yeah – must 'ave been." His fingers continued to automatically twist and turn the cube, colours gradually moving and shifting into place. A loud blare of the horn from the car behind abruptly broke the spell and Gene cursed, tossing the cube onto the empty passenger seat as he moved off again.

"Can I have the cube back Gene?"

"What? Sorry…'course." He passed it to Molly in the back seat, without taking his eyes off the road. "So, where's this hairdressers again?"

"High Holborn…the Aveda place."

"No idea what that is but I'll take your word for it."

"Gene?" Molly's eyes were like saucers as she examined the Rubik's cube, turning it over in her hands again and again.

"Yes petal."

"You did it!"

"Did what?"

"You did the cube. How did you manage it?"

"Quite honestly love – I 'ave no idea."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mum look – Gene did the Rubik's cube!" Molly said excitedly, as Alex got into the car and settled into the passenger seat."

"Did he now?" She took the cube and examined it, raising an eyebrow at Gene. "Well, I always knew you had dextrous fingers," she said softly.

"Cheeky mare." Gene kissed her cheek as she fussed with the seatbelt. "Hairdressers closed then?"

"Now who's being cheeky?

"I'm only kiddin'," he said patting her thigh, before pulling away from the kerb, "you look good enough to eat."

"Honestly, you're incorrigible." She peered at her reflection in the vanity mirror before flipping the visor closed. Her once straggly and frankly neglected hair was transformed into a sleek chestnut bob. "I wasn't sure about the fringe."

"It looks great mum honestly. And you can't see the scar now so that's good."

Alex's automatically ran her fingers over the scar on her forehead. "Yes. That is good."

"Right," Gene announced dramatically, "where now?"

"Oh…er…lunch I think." I've managed to get a booking at a place around the corner. I think you'll like it." She smiled mischievously at Gene.

Moments later they were being ushered to a table in a chic but cosy Italian restaurant. Bottles of Chianti lined the perimeter of the room and the walls were adorned with photographs of famous Italians and Hollywood film stars, interspersed with guitars and mandolins mounted onto the wall.

"This is great mum – I love Ciao Bella," Molly said eagerly as an attentive waiter pulled out her chair and smiled indulgently.

"What do you think?" Alex asked. She watched nervously as Gene looked around the place, taking in the fussing waiters, the old-fashioned peppermills and of course a plentiful supply of breadsticks.

He smiled broadly. "I think its like Luigi's – only better."

"Yes!" she said triumphantly. "And the food is much nicer I promise you." Her mood lifted instantly as moustachioed and macho waiter returned bearing a bottle of the best Bardolino and a Limoncello for Molly. "I think Luigi's must have been mine."

"Your what?" He took a sip of wine, fully expecting to taste vinegar but was pleasantly surprised by the rich fruity flavour.

She glanced at Molly, but she seemed fully immersed in the complexities of the menu. Leaning forward she whispered in Gene's ear. "My construct…my invention if you like."

"You sure about that," Gene smirked and nodded towards a short and portly Italian making his way towards their table. He was dressed much as the other waiters but his demeanour suggested a slightly higher authority.

"Hey Mr 'Unt. Where 'ave you been for so long eh?"

Gene stood up, towering over the much shorter man. "Long story…err…" he quickly glanced at the waiters name badge, "…Franco."

The head waiter shook Gene's hand enthusiastically. "You did not tell me you were coming? I could 'ave made arrangements…something special eh?"

"Sorry, my fault," Alex piped up once she had recovered her voice, "I booked the table as a surprise." I just didn't realise I'd been the one being surprised. Although Franco was definitely not Luigi he could have quite easily passed for Luigi's cousin once removed.

"Ah Bella," Franco bowed over Alex's proffered hand and kissed her fingers.

"Yeah, alright then Franco, no need to go overboard. This is Alex Drake – she's a very special lady."

"So I see," he said with a wink.

"And this is her daughter Molly."

"Ah piccolina," Franco patted Molly's head affectionately. "You are your mother's daughter."

Franco hovered attentively as they all sat down again and began to study the menu. He brushed off the other waiters brusquely. "I will take this order myself."

"I know what I want," Molly announced.

"Of course," Franco said with a smile.

"I'll have deep fried mushrooms and then spaghetti with meatballs."

"A very good choice little one. And you signorina?"

"Actually I'm not sure. There is something but I don't think you have it on the menu."

"Not on the menu? Is impossible mia donna. You tell me what you like and I guarantee we can cook it," he said proudly.

"Veal scaloppini?"

"No problem. My mamma has a sauce I save only for my very special customers. Is…" he kissed his fingers, "…is fantastico."

"Then that's what I'll have, with Parma ham and melon to start."

"And you Mr 'Unt? No let me guess – the prawn cocktail and grilled lamb chops?"

"You read my mind Franco."

Franco sighed dramatically. "Alas no. You come 'ere for many months and each time you 'ave the same. Franco, I say to myself, one day he will change his order - maybe the bresaola rucola or the gamberoni piccanti but…"

"But not today," Gene said firmly.

"No, not today." With a last pat of Molly's head, Franco bustled off towards the kitchen, shouting orders as he went, and smiling at the other patrons in the busy restaurant.

"So you know this place then?" Alex said, as she took another sip of wine.

"So it would seem." He looked around the restaurant which was now buzzing with the noise of customers and busy waiters. "Mind you, it is a bit familiar."

"That's good."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure if that's because I remember it or because it's a bit like Luigi's. Like I was telling the doc this morning – I don't know which memories are real."

"Of course – how did it go this morning?"

"Not as bad as I thought it would be."

"See. I told you there was nothing to worry about. She didn't want to know your deepest darkest secrets did she?" she teased.

"Suppose not." Gene smiled ruefully and squeezed Alex's hand under the table.

"So what's the plan then?"

"She says I can go back to work."

"What? So soon?"

"Keep yer 'air on. She said there's no reason why I can't start the rehab programme the Met 'ave got lined up fer me. I doubt whether they'll let me near any real bloody criminals for a while yet. And I've got to go back to her on a regular basis until the memory stuff works itself out – one way or the other."

"Oh…I see…well that's good." Alex took another sip of wine and tried to calm her nerves. She hadn't realised that the thought of Gene going back to work made her so nervous.

"Are you going to catch scum again then Gene?" Molly said innocently, as she lifted her head briefly from her Nintendo DS.

"Molly! Language please."

Gene chuckled to himself. "Yes darlin' I'll soon be out catching the sc…" he caught Alex's disapproving look, "…catching the nasty men of London."

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully as they tucked into the delicious food and Alex declared that the veal scaloppini was quite the best that she had ever tasted, thus bringing an emotional tear to Franco's eye. After paying the bill they emerged blinking into the bright sunshine outside the restaurant.

Molly tugged on Gene's sleeve. "Can we go to the park Gene?"

"Dunno – we'll 'ave to ask the boss," he winked and turned to Alex, "can we?"

"I don't see why not. It's only around the corner and it'll be nice to walk off that lunch."

"Dunno about walking, I was thinking about lying on the grass and getting some shut eye."

"Is that all you think about?" she teased.

"Nope. But we can't do that in the park – not without getting arrested anyway."

Luckily Alex didn't have time to respond.

"Come on mum – I want to go on the boating lake."

Molly led the way as they entered Regent's Park on a rare sunny day in what had so far been a disappointing British summer. But despite the sunshine Alex couldn't help a small shiver as they approached the boating lake.

"You okay?" Gene took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Just…memories…old memories."

He nodded sympathetically. This place gave him the shivers as well, especially when they passed close to the bandstand which stood as a memorial to those soldiers who lost their lives in an IRA bomb explosion in 1982 – the place where Alex had so very nearly lost her own life as she had become caught up in events. Gene increased his pace slightly and led her away from the scene of their nightmares, the sound of children playing gradually obliterating the memories of chaos and destruction.

"Come on – we can sit on the grass over there while Molly goes on the boat."

"By herself?"

"She's a big girl now aren't you Molls? Besides look," he pointed towards the children's boating lake, "load of other kids on there – younger than Molls an' all."

"Please mum?" Molly pleaded.

Alex was confronted by two sets of imploring eyes she was powerless to resist. "Oh go on then – but be careful." She watched anxiously as Gene led Molly away and then made sure she was settled into one of the sturdy child size pedallos. Gene quickly returned to her side, throwing his jacket on the grass for them both to sit on.

"You worry too much," he said.

"I know, I know – I can't help it. Maybe I am a bit overprotective sometimes."

"It's not a criticism love," he said, nudging her shoulder, "better overprotective than not protective enough." He slipped an arm around her shoulders as they both watched Molly having a whale of a time on the lake, making friends with other children and generally enjoying herself. "See, she's fine."

"Yes, she is." Alex felt the tension go out of her body as Gene rubbed her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes as he continued to massage, turning her face to the sun as the warmth eased her body. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you fine – after this morning I mean?"

Gene thought about the question as he continued to loosen the knots of tension in Alex's shoulders. "Yeah – I'm fine too. I'm just impatient to get on I suppose. Wanna get back in the saddle."

"You will I'm sure."

"Lots to do though - especially this rehab programme they wanna put me through; fitness, driving, firearms tests – all this before they even let me anywhere near doing real police work."

Alex opened her eyes and turned to face him. "But you still want to be a police officer?"

"Course I do!"

"Then it'll be worth it in the end." She smiled and stroked his face. "One step at a time."

"Yeah – one step at a time." He leaned forward and kissed her lips, his arms reaching around her body to bring her closer still.

"So what next?" Alex said when they finally broke apart.

"Apart from snogging you senseless you mean?"

She giggled. "Yes, apart from that."

"Chief Super said I can pop into the station tomorrow – just for a chat and get me bearings though – nothing serious."

"Well that's a start. And you never know – it might prompt some more memories."

"You never know."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Gene stood outside Bethnal Green police station and took a deep breath before entering. Of course, the very fact that this wasn't Fenchurch East had been the first of many adjustments he'd had to make. Another fantasy conjured up by his injured brain? Didn't really matter in the long run he supposed. A police station was a police station wherever it was – and he knew that Ray, Chris and Shaz were in here so at least they'd be some friendly faces.

"Guv?"

Gene turned to find a smartly dressed young Asian man with twinkling eyes smiling at him. He looked vaguely familiar and Gene had a brief flash of this man's face contorted in fear.

"Guv – you okay?"

"Sorry – just trying to get me bearings. Memory's still not up to scratch. I do know you though don't I?"

He nodded. "Ray and Chris said you were having a few problems with your memory. Mind you – hardly surprising after what happened." He held out his hand. "Tony...Tony Das…your DI."

Gene returned the man's eager handshake but again was assaulted by a disturbing flash of memory and this time he could see another man's hand holding a knife to his DI's neck. He blinked away the memory.

"You alright Guv? Look like you've seen a ghost."

"Probably nothing. I just keep seeing something…you…in some sort of trouble."

"That would be me," Tony said with a laugh, "you're always giving me earache about it and then getting me out of trouble."

"No…something serious this time." Gene frowned as he tried to remember. "Somebody holding a knife to yer throat?"

Tony paled briefly but then recovered as they both started to walk towards the station entrance and went in. "Don't you remember then Guv?"

"Remember what?"

"You saved my life – the day you got hit over the head."

"I did?"

"Drugs bust over in Diss Street. All went a bit pear shaped and this tosser pulled a knife on me. You waded in and managed to disarm him but then just as we were leaving some other bastard started swinging with a baseball bat, caught you on the side of the head and you went down hard."

Gene gingerly touched the side of his head. "You can say that again."

"Could have been a lot worse – for me I mean. I was gutted when you went into a coma…and now you've lost your memory."

"Alright, keep your hair on Gladys. I'm alive aren't I?"

Tony laughed. "Yes you are Guv – and right on form by the sounds of it. Although I suppose I should be calling you 'Sir' by rights. Congrats on the promotion."

"Thanks. So what happens now?"

"Chief Super's asked me to show you around the place, make sure you get your bearings again. They've got an office set aside for you for when you do start back again properly."

Gene nodded and then looked continued walking through the station. He was getting a lot of nods and smiles of recognition but so far, no more familiar faces. "Seems to be a lot going on today."

"Usual stuff – but we've got a new DCS coming in so things are a bit hectic in CID as you can imagine."

"Do I get to meet him – this new DCS?"

"Of course. He's already said he wants to meet all the senior staff – he mentioned you by name."

"Oh? Do I know him then?"

"Not sure – he's just been promoted and transferred in from Hackney. Mackintosh I think."

Gene stopped in his tracks. "Who?"

"DCS Charlie Mackintosh. The great 'SuperMac' himself."

To be continued…………..