Intermission 2

"The last time we met you were still having difficulty communicating with Gene and were reassessing your relationship." The psychologist waited for Alex to respond but predictably she stayed silent, "I'm aware that Gene updated his address details when he arrived for his appointment."

Alex wished the woman would just spit it out. She was sure that she wasn't quite that annoying. She felt fairly certain that she didn't string things out as severely.

"If you are asking whether Gene has moved out," she began slowly, "then yes, he has."

The woman nodded.

"And whose idea was that?"

"Well it wasn't going to be his, was it?"

"Why not, Alex?"

"Because Gene is completely devoid of ideas these days."

"So it was your decision to separate?"

"We're living separately. That's not quite the same thing."

"But you had been thinking of breaking off your engagement?" The therapist paused as Alex hung her head a little. "your ring is still on your finger. What does that mean?"

Alex swallowed.

"It means," she said stiffly, "that I am so used to wearing it that I must have forgotten to offer to hand it back."

"How has communication been between the two of you since Gene moved out?" Once again Alex failed to respond. She didn't speak, didn't look at the woman, didn't move a muscle. The psychologist unfolded her legs, sat up a little straighter and looked at her seriously. "Alex," she said quietly, "in my opinion it looks as though you may be depressed –"

Alex gave a sudden, sarcastic, explosive laugh which accompanied a bitter, angry smile.

"You think I may be depressed?" she continued to laugh, "well really, I can see your skills improving before my very eyes."

"It may be time for you to consult your doctor and review your prescriptions," the woman told her, "it doesn't seem that the medication you're on presently is doing what it's supposed to."

"And what exactly is the medication supposed to do?" Alex asked, an edge to her voice.

The psychologist knew that Alex already knew the answer all too well but patiently she responded;

"To help you to even out your mood. To help you to function more normally day-to-day, help you to sleep and get enough rest. Help to stabilise you while you begin to come to terms with what you have been through."

"Tell me," Alex began, "can these pills take away the images stuck in my head? Can they take me back to election night and send me home half an hour before the devices triggered? Can they…. Sneak into Fenchurch West and slice off Jim Keats's balls in a slow and agonising fashion?"

The psychologist did her best not to sigh.

"They're not a miracle cure, Alex. They are there to help you while you work through your issues, not to take them away."

"Then," Alex said quietly, "I may as well be flushing them down the toilet for all the good they are doing me."

The psychologist ignored Alex's stubborn rudeness.

"You are becoming increasingly withdrawn, Alex. You are avoiding work, you're avoiding the need to communicate with Gene by asking him to leave, even here you are talking to me less than you were at your first two sessions." She wasn't at all surprised that Alex didn't respond. "It feels like you are avoiding communication because you don't want to be in a situation where you might have you talk about what you have been through. That if you talk to somebody they might ask you a question you don't want to answer, such as how you are or how you're coping." She looked at Alex as she remained silent and her eyes seemed unfocused, "And answering those questions will mean that you have to acknowledge it."

Finally Alex glanced at her.

"Acknowledge what?" she asked coldly.

The psychologist looked at her sadly.

"That it happened," she said quietly.

~xXx~

"I don't know what happened, Headcase. So don't even ask. One minute I was walking by with a mug in me hand, the next I was packing me suitcase."

"Your relationship had been struggling for a while, since election night, hadn't it?"

"You say that like it's a revelation."

"Whose decision was it to separate, Gene?"

"Does it sound like something I wanted to do?

"So it was Alex's decision?"

"Yer in the wrong career love, should have been a detective."

"Did you argue with her?"

"She'd need to talk to me to have a ruddy argument."

"I meant argue with her about leaving. Did you tell her you didn't want to go?"

"Didn't want to waste me breath when her mind was made up."

"Perhaps she wanted you to change her mind."

"Why would she want that then? She blames me for everything. She'd got no bloody faith in me. She was glad to see the back o'me."

"Or perhaps she wanted you to prove her wrong?"

Gene glared at the therapist.

"Well, Headcase, for that to happen she would have to be wrong, wouldn't she?"

"You still hold yourself responsible for her abduction and assault?

"If I do I'm not the only one."

"Are you still feeling responsible for your son's condition as well, Gene?"

"I told you I don't have a bloody son!"

"Your best friend. Sorry, Gene, that was my slip. Do you still feel responsible for what's happened to Simon?"

"Look, we'll get on better of you open up the flapping bits on the sides of yer head and start listening for once. I don't feel responsible, I am responsible. Me and me bloody bad decisions."

"Do you feel you've continued to make what you deem bad decisions?"

"No."

"So your confidence is improving?"

"No, I mean I've not made any decisions."

"You can't go through life without making decisions forever."

"Working out well so far."

"Like letting Alex decide you should move out?" She stared at Gene as his face grew thunderous and his tongue flicked around his dry lips.

"You want to talk to me about decisions, Headcase? I've been given the mother of all decisions."

"Would you like to talk it through?"

Gene stared at her darkly.

"I've been given," he began stiffly, "the decision of flipping the little switch next to Simon's bed," he swallowed, "and saying a permanent goodnight. " he saw the psychologist's expression change completely, the shock and the sadness filtering through no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. "There. You wanted decisions? There's a bloody big one for you." He closed his eyes. "Now tell me again why I need to start making them again when they revolve around the decision to put an end to a man's life."

~xXx~

"I don't have life. Not really." Jake sighed and shook his head. "No, sorry. That's way too dramatic. I don't mean to exaggerate."

"You must be feeling that way to have said it in the first place."

"I shouldn't do though. I don't have any right. I mean, it's not everyone else's fault that they're going through so much."

"Is there anyone at work you can talk to about feeling this way?"

"That's the whole thing, I don't have anyone to talk to. Not any more."

"Who would you have spoken to before?"

"Marci," Jake said quietly, "she's been my best friend for years. But she's struggling with Eddie's death. I can't lumber her with my pathetic problems." He sighed. "And there would have been Eddie.." he shook his head, "I miss having him around to talk to. And Shaz…" he closed his eyes, "she's spending a lot of time with Marci. I know she's trying to help her with her loss. I don't want to intrude on them. My DCI is having," he hesitated, "personal issues of his own… DCI Drake is already struggling…" he shook his head. "And there was… someone… I was getting close to for a while," he exhaled, the sadness on his face clear to see, "but he's still hung up on his ex-girlfriend and…" he swallowed, "even when he says he wants to talk… I know he's just humouring me… he has other things on his mind."

"Jake," the psychologist interrupted before he could go on, "all I've heard from you are the reasons why you won't talk to anyone else. Not why they won't talk to you." She paused as he looked at her, confused, "it sounds to me that it's you who's isolating yourself from the others."

"I," Jake blinked, "I wouldn't if they didn't have their problems –"

"Your problems are just as valid as anyone else's, Jake. You need to talk as much as anyone else."

Jake shook his head slowly.

"I just want everyone to be able to sort through their own problems without worrying about mine," he said

"Then what makes you think," she began, "that they don't feel the same way about you?"

Jake's eyes turned downward. He closed his eyes. She may have had a point.

~xXx~

"It's like he's just avoiding me. He's been my best friend forever and since Eddie died…" Marci closed her eyes and shook her head. "Maybe he doesn't know what to say to me or… I don't know. "

"Sadly it's not unusual for people to find it difficult to know how to talk to those who have experienced a loss recently. They may feel awkward because they're unsure whether to talk about Eddie or whether to avoid mentioning him completely."

"When all I want to know is where a file is being kept or whether Bains got out on bail for the ice cream van smuggling ring bust then it seems stupid they'd even think about that," Marci said quietly.

"Your situation also may remind them of losses they've experienced too," the psychologist explained, "sometimes seeing someone experiencing the kind of loss that you have can bring back the death of someone they were close to. A friend, a partner, a family member…"

"That makes even less sense because the only one who's treating me the same is Shaz," Marci sighed.

The psychologist remembered Shaz from previous sessions. She'd studded her notes from the brief counselling she received after she'd lost Kim as well. It seemed to her that Shaz was still struggling with her own loss.

"It can work the other way around too," she said, "Shaz may have struggled to find anyone with whom she felt comfortable talking about her girlfriend's death. She might not have known anyone who'd been through a loss similar to hers and now she has found she finally has someone to talk to."

"I don't like it. I mean, I don't like it either way. I don't want to be seen as weird or different. I don't want to be singled out because of Eddie. I want my life back." She hung her head, "that's so selfish… isn't it? I want my life back," she closed her eyes, "when Eddie was the one who lost his."

~xXx~

"You seem better than the last time we spoke. Brighter."

Shaz has a noticeable difference about her. It was something in the way she held herself, the way she moved. She held her head a little higher; her hands weren't fiddling nervously with each other and anything else within close proximity. There was even a little colour back in her cheeks which had seemed so incredibly pale before and her eyes seemed to sparkle.

"I do?" She asked. There was even a little smile there.

"Has anything changed in your life since we last spoke?"

"No, miss. Not especially, anyway."

"Something must be making the difference."

Shaz gave a little shrug but there was a bit of a buzz going through her veins; the low hum of happiness that couldn't be explained in words.

"I suppose that… things are… good," she said, "I'm back at work now. I got a promotion, you see… just before… well, you know," she looked down for a moment, not wanting to spell out the fact that her promotion came just minutes before the blasts, "I'm really enjoying it., even though things are cramped."

"How so?"

"Lots of us working out of one room," Shaz explained, "there's not a lot of the station we can work in. Not safely, anyway. We're sharing with CID. It's working out OK." She hesitated, "apart from when one of the dogs ate the leg of the Guv's desk..."

The psychologist shuddered. She imagined that wouldn't go down too well.

"So you're feeling positive about being back at work?"

"Oh, yes, Miss," Shaz nodded enthusiastically, "I'm enjoying it more than ever."

"Is that because of your promotion?""

"And the company."

"You like sharing your office with another department?"

"I have a few friends in CID," Shaz told her.

"Yes, you know Marci, don't you?"

She noticed a tiny flicker of Shaz's eyes and an almost imperceptible pinkness across her cheeks as she looked away.

"That's right," she said.

"You said you'd been finding Marci's recent loss difficult because it brought back some of your own grief," the psychologist pointed out, "are you finding it easier to deal with the memory now?"

Shaz nodded a little coyly.

"Marci's doing really well," she said, "I'm proud of her."

"Have you been spending a lot of time with her?"

Shaz seemed to blink extremely slowly. She let a little smile flicker onto her lips.

"A bit."

The psychologist hesitated.

"Sharon?" she asked, "is there something else you wanted to talk about?"

Shaz hesitated, looking tempted by the idea of talking. Her head was working away as she eyed up the psychologist, in two minds about whether to open up or whether to keep to herself some of the thoughts and the emotions that had been flying around her lately. Eventually she closed her eyes with a slight smile and shook her head slowly.

"No, that's OK," she said.

"I'm here to listen, it doesn't matter what you want to talk about. It doesn't have to be the incident."

"I don't think 'incident' is a very good word for such a bad night," said Shaz but she was just trying to change the subject. No, she really didn't want to talk, she decided. Maybe some other time she would want to talk. But for now she just wanted to keep her thoughts to herself.

After all, having a crush was like having the most wonderful secret that only her heart knew.

~xXx~

"Are you going to sit here in silence for the full hour, Robin?"

Robin wanted to. No, in fact, he didn't want to; he wanted to be anywhere but there. He wanted to be at home, cooking pizzas or at work, feeding Cassandra or even marching up and down Downing Street singing love songs to Tony Blair would have been preferable to sitting there in yet another session.

"I don't have anything to say," he told her.

This is the third session you've attended," she reminded him, "and so far you've said very little about the experience you went through on election night."

"It was one of the worst things I've been through," Robin said crossly, "why would I want to relive it?

"I'm just here to listen when you need to talk about it.

"Which I don't. Need to, I mean."

"You might find that if you aren't able to express your feelings then you will start finding them harder to cope with."

"It was one fucking night out of my whole life!" Robin cried.

"Something can only last seconds and yet still leave you in need of support."

"I'm more concerned about the fact that the rest of my life is over!"

The psychologist hesitated.

"What do you mean, Robin?

"I'm talking about my relationship. The love of my fucking life."

"Have you been able to talk to her yet?"

Robin gave a bitter laugh.

"Oh yeah, I spoke to her alright. Well, she spoke to me. Told me exactly where to stick myself, and our relationship." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So yeah. I guess it's over. All those times you labelled her my ex? That's what she's labelled herself now." He huffed in her direction. "Congratulations.

The psychologist let her breath out slowly.

"Robin, I am sorry to hear that," she said quietly, "but perhaps now that she has ended things properly you will be able to begin to accept that your relationship has reached its end and to move on.

Robin closed his eyes and gritted his teeth,

"That's the thing," he said crossly, "I don't believe it. Not for one minute."

"Your girlfriend has told you straight that –"

"She's told me nothing!" Robin cried, "she spewed out a load of words just to get rid of me. She didn't mean them."

"What makes you think that? And why would she want to 'get rid of you'?"

"Because I know her," Robin cried, "and as for getting rid of me…" he almost shook as he tried to work out what to tell the woman. He wasn't even sure himself. But he knew it had to do with Keats and whatever damn twisted reason she was stuck in that damned place. "Perhaps," he said stiffly, "that's something I need to work out on my own, in my own time."

~xXx~

"I…" Alex flinched as she swallowed, "I thought it would pass with time. I thought that I would just accept things. I always have before. I mean… It's not as though I've been through the same thing before but I've been hurt… taken… my life has been in grim danger… I've been through a lot. In my line of work that's not unusual. And I've always put myself back on my feet and moved on." She could feel her chest tightening as she thought about it. "But this time… this time things were different. What happened… it went so far beyond…" she trailed off and shook her head.

"Go on," the psychologist said encouragingly.

"I don't know if I can."

"Try, Alex." She passed as she watched Alex's face growing paler as she stared. "You've come this far."

Alex breathed in very deeply and slowly, filling her lungs with oxygen which she released gradually. She wished that her anxiety would flow away on her breath. No such luck. But she somehow found the strength to continue.

"This," she whispered, "was something I had never experienced before. And I don't know how to cope with it. It feels… unreal. As though it didn't really happen. It was too much… too great… too terrible. It couldn't have really happened." She looked down, refusing to meet the woman's stare. "People asking me how I am… make it hard to deny that it happened. People… Gene… looking at me… with that guilt upon his face… makes it impossible to pretend it didn't happen." She swallowed, "he… blames himself. He feels… that it was his fault for not… going with me."

"He feels, or you feel?"

Alex breathed in deeply again. Up until that moment she would have said 'I feel'. But she knew inside that it wasn't true.

"He feels," she whispered.

The woman nodded.

"Go on."

"I couldn't... Every time he tried to speak to me… it was all… garbled apologies and admissions of guilt. He wanted me to tell him it was OK… that it wasn't his fault… but I couldn't because…" she swallowed back tears, "because if I told him it wasn't his fault then I'd have had to admit that it had happened. That there was something to forgive him for, Something to absolve him of the guilt for." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "and that meant admitting that he… that it –"

There was a moment of silence.

"Go on, Alex."

Alex closed her eyes firmly and drew her breath in once again.

"That he raped me," her voice barely rose above a whisper

"That who raped you?"

Alex swallowed.

"Jim Keats," her voice was barely audible but still she said the words.

"Go on."

"Jim Keats," Alex whispered, "raped me and I –" she finally opened her eyes and found the woman meeting her stare, "and it wasn't Gene's fault, of course it wasn't, there was no way he would have known, there was no way anyone could have known about the ambulance or Keats, or…" she found herself trailed off as she pictured Gene's expression of devastation; the look on his face as he realised what Alex had been through, the way he blamed himself, the way that every time he looked at her he seemed to be seeking her forgiveness. But she'd not been able to forgive him because that would mean admitting that it happened, not just to herself but to the outside world.

"Alex?"

Alex swallowed.

"It wasn't his fault," she whispered, "he had to make a decision. He couldn't have known. There was no way that he could have known what would happen." She shook her head. "But it happened anyway," her heart sank down into the pit of her stomach. "And now it's all too late."

The psychologist looked at her seriously.

"Is it?"

"Of course."

It doesn't have to be."

Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn't get it, the woman just didn't get it. Even acknowledging what had happened and that Gene's decisions were not to blame the way Gene had behaved since then had destroyed her confidence in him. She needed his strength more than ever but it had crumbled along with his station. He was no longer the Gene Hunt she knew and loved, and until she saw a glimpse of that man again then her heart remained empty.

What use was the lion without his roar?

~xXx~

A/N: First of all I wanted to say I'm sorry for the lack of updates. This has been a shit week and life continues to travel in the same vein for the foreseeable future. I have not been able to write for several days both physically and emotionally. I've totally conceded defeat with NaNoWriMo, there is no way I could catch up and I'm not going to pressure myself to 'just try' either, it's not worth it. That's not to say I am abandoning the story because I'm not, I'm planning to write alternately with this fic and the one that follows. Rather than trying to fulfil the aim of NaNo to write 50,000 words in 30 days my personal aim is to finish this fic, the shortish one that follows and the Victoria/Nailer story by the end of the year. That feels reasonable to me.

My maternity leave ends next week. Initially it will probably lead to me updating less for a week or so but after that I'll be writing more because I always have a chapter open in another window while I'm working.

Is anyone still reading?