"So Driscoll's being patched up now but he'll be fit to stand trial, and Acres has been taken to hospital for a once over. He's being referred to counselling," Chris recapped for Shaz back at the station.

"Poor kid…" she said, sympathetically. "He got himself into such a mess. It's really frightening that someone could have so much power over you that you'd kill yourself just because they told you to. He should've had someone to look out for him."

"I know," Chris agreed. "Well, he'd got us. Sort of. I mean, we saved his life."

"True, but who's going to help him to know what to do with it?" asked Shaz.

"He'll just have to work it out, like the rest of us," said Ray, irritably.

"He'll get help," Chris reassured her. "Don't worry. And Driscoll won't be able to get anywhere near him from now on."

"Shaz is right, though," Alex joined in. "Jamie may have feared him, but he also needed and even loved Warren Driscoll. Driscoll was the only thing giving his life meaning. Without him, and without proper support, Jamie could very easily get even more lost."

Gene rolled his eyes. "Well thank you very much, you two! One of the most evil bastards it's ever been my misfortune to meet is about to be locked away for the rest of his life thanks to us, and here you sit pontificating about what a great loss he is to society. It's a good result. We should be celebrating, not crying ourselves a bloody river."

"It is a good result," Alex agreed. "We're just saying: think about the life Jamie's had, him and all those others who thought Driscoll could supply what they were missing. There ought to be more for our young people than following some doctrine of despair."

"Some people can't make their own decisions," said Gene, flatly. "As long as they don't end up in charge then it's no skin off my nose who they let boss them around unless it's putting other people in danger. And Acres let people down. He got people hurt. Every time he lied and covered for Driscoll, there were consequences. Other people were punished for his weakness. If it was up to me him and all the others like him would all be packed off into the army where they can't do any damage and might actually be of some use."

"Too bloody right…" Ray chimed in.

"He was a victim too…" said Alex, firmly. "And I know you know that, because you had to choose one of them to shoot first and you chose the real villain, not the kid who'd cocked up."

Gene snorted dismissively.

Alex caught Shaz's eye. "They're such fascists…" the younger woman muttered. "Still," she looked up at Chris, "They did a good job." She smiled, mistily.

"Every woman adores a fascist," Alex quipped automatically. No one was listening, but Alex herself was suddenly struck by the fact that she was quoting from a poem called 'Daddy'. She eyed Gene, narrowly. "You're both obviously deeply screwed up," she decided, "But otherwise you are absolutely nothing like my father. A troubling thought, though… my psyche really is a dark place. Still, it's hardly surprising."

"What are you wittering on about now, woman?" Gene demanded, apparently catching the end of this stream of consciousness.

"Still trying to work out what it is that makes you so devilishly attractive," she said, airily.

He nodded, as if this made perfect sense.

"You're only human," he said. "Right: pub."

"Pub."

"Pub," the others echoed, heading towards the door.

"I wonder if Luigi has any opera we can listen to…" Alex mused, picking up her fur. "You know, we've been in and out of that bloody place all week and I barely heard a single note until the final confrontation with Driscoll, and I wasn't really in a mood to appreciate it then."

"I know - dodged that bullet, didn't we?" Gene said, rubbing his hands together.

"And my dress is ruined," Alex pointed out, trying in vain to smooth down the nap and brush off the worst of the dust. "I hope you're happy."

"Never mind, Bolls," he said, in a heartening tone. "I was going to rip it off later anyway."

"Promises, promises…" she said, dismissively.

"Speaking of which," he said, blocking her way through the door. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Where was this going?

Gene leant down towards her, face inches from hers.

"It's your round, isn't it?" he said.

Half relieved, half exasperated, Alex broke into laughter.

"I don't know about my round," she said. "But it's definitely my turn."

He looked at her, inquiringly.

"My turn for three hours of screaming," she clarified.

"Glad you're finally on board with the mood of celebration: I knew you'd clocked that fat bird singing at the end…" he replied, smugly. "All right then, Bolls. In that case: first round's on me."