Missed two thank yous in the last chapter - firstly to BettinaM for all her information about the German police force; a complicated system! In the end I had to cut the chapter as it was already very long, so all Bettina's work went for nought. But still - many thanks. And of course huge thanks as ever to Wombledon not just for her beta toughness but for all kinds of expert knowledge and advice, without which I'd look more of an idiot than normal. Those thanks are repeated for this chapter, too.

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'Coming across the road, Boss?' Chris was at the door, ready for beer.

'Not tonight, Chris, thanks. But buy everyone a round on me.' She handed him a tenner, and got a grin in return.

'Cheers, Boss. You off somewhere nice?'

'Camden Palace, probably.'

'Nice one. Have fun, Boss. See you in the morning.'

It had been a crap day, without a single redeeming moment. Gene had been in a filthy mood since he'd turned up that morning, and the few times he'd been forced to speak to her, he managed to avoid eye contact. The frost between them had affected the whole team, and Alex thought they all deserved a night off. So she'd decided to leave them all to Luigi's tender mercies and head up to Camden Palace to exorcise her misery on the dance floor. Helped by a steady supply of alcohol. Maybe she'd get a decent night's sleep that way.

She'd come back from Germany fantasising about Gene and continuing where they'd left off, getting hot and sweaty and very naked. But far from a loving reunion and a steamy weekend in bed, it had been lonely and miserable, and the last two days had been no better – a chilly, irritable silence, bar the conversation with Cruickshank the previous day. Gene had shut her out of his private life, and today he'd sidelined her at work.

Sod you. Alex went back to the flat to eat something and have a bath before heading for Camden to numb out on noise and strangers. No one night stand, though. She wanted Gene, no-one else. She'd lost that route to oblivion. Didn't stop her finding a cute bloke to dance with, though. A bit of straightforward flirting wouldn't hurt. A few compliments might give her a boost.

The Palace was quiet for a Thursday, but she hadn't been there for three minutes before being chatted up. Jake, his name was. Very tall, sporty build, streaked hair and a suspicion of eyeliner. He'd do just fine.

He was an excellent dancer, and after three numbers Alex was feeling the endorphins kicking in. She grinned at Jake. 'Feeling great! You're good...'

He rested his wrists on her shoulders and smiled down at her. 'Keep dancing? Or want a rest?'

'Keep dancing. You're a long time dead.'

'You here with anyone?'

'No...' Alex was puzzled.

'Only there's a bloke up there who's been watching you.' Jake nodded towards the balcony and Alex followed his gaze. She caught a glimpse of a man melting back into the crowd. Tall. Blond. No. Can't be.

'Nope. Can't see anyone.' She wasn't going to waste time guessing.

'Why do fools fall in love?' Diana Ross asked some stupid bloody questions, thought Alex, as couples poured on to the dance floor. Jake grabbed her hands and they swung into movement; a while later, he pulled Alex close as the music changed down several gears, and couples around them moved in for the smooch. Two bars into the song and Alex put her mouth to her partner's ear: 'Gasping for a drink, Jake – do you mind?'

He put a brave face on it, and headed for the bar, shoving his way gradually through knots of hot bodies. Alex puffed out a sigh of relief and looked for the door to the bogs – anywhere to escape for a bit. It was time to lose Jake – she didn't want him thinking he was going to take her home. He seemed quite sweet, and was certainly attractive – but she didn't want him. Wanted someone else.

Alex glanced across the floor and saw him. Can't be. I'm just wishing him here. But it was definitely Gene. What the hell's he doing here? He couldn't have known she'd be here tonight – she hadn't told anyone. Anyway, he's obviously not here to find me. He can't bring himself to say hello, let alone have even one dance with me. He was slow dancing with a little blonde who couldn't have been more than twenty; she was twined round him like bindweed, and he didn't look as though he objected. Why should he? She was pretty, feminine, tactile, and up for it – she was making no bones about being available; she was virtually steaming in his arms, looking up at him, batting her eyelashes.

Alex couldn't help thinking about the first encounter with Miranda Carteret. No. Don't go there. She cursed softly, berating herself for her multiple stupidities, and turned away, pushing through the door to the bogs. There was a couple snogging in the corridor, so she pushed the fire exit door open and was out in the cold air, among the empty beer kegs and rubbish bins. She stood for a few minutes, dragging dirty London oxygen into her lungs and trying to summon the energy to go back in, find another man to dance with, or go home. It was damned cold for March, she realised, and headed back into the building; she crunched straight into a solid form heading outside, and as she bounced off him, hands grabbed her shoulders. 'Sorry, love,' said Gene, before he realised who he'd got in his hands. 'Bolls... what you doing out here?'

'Having a breather. You?'

'Fag break. Where's your toyboy?'

'At the bar, last time I looked.'

An awkward silence, as they leant against the walls either side of the corridor, not looking at each other, for what seemed like hours.

'Better get back.' Alex spoke, but didn't move. Gene was looking at his feet.

'Enjoying yourself?' he muttered.

Alex looked at him. 'No.' Another pause. 'You?'

Gene looked up at her. 'What do you think?'

Alex stared at him, then sighed. She hated this. 'Then can we stop now?'

'Stop what?'

'Tormenting each other.'

Gene began to speak, but thought better of it. Alex couldn't read his face, didn't know what that burning look was telling her. But whatever he was thinking, it was time to end the game: better to know, either way. Suddenly she thought she'd cry, felt the tears prick, had to breathe deep to stop them spilling. She was trembling, scared of his response, shaken by the fear of a simple question.

'Do you still want me, Gene?'

The silence seemed to go on for so long that she shivered. Gene looked as though she'd kicked him.

'Want you? Are you mad?' he said softly.

Alex couldn't look at him, terrified of seeing the rejection.

'Bolls, come here.' He reached for her, and as their hands touched, the door was flung back on its hinges and two blokes crashed through into the corridor, pissed as rats, giggling, stinking of beer and fags, Sting's voice behind them: 'Every little thing she does is magic....'

Gene grabbed Alex's hand and dragged her back into the club, looking for the darkest corner, somewhere he could hold her, invisible shadows in the heaving crowd. Sting faded, and Chrissie Hynd's smoky voice took over, the heavy, sexy Pretenders sound drawing Alex to Gene like a pin to a lodestone.

'When I look up from my pillow, I dream you are here with me....'

They were fused together, her arms around his neck, his face in her hair, swaying to the slow rhythm. Alex let herself melt into him, every fibre of her body tingling with the sense of him. She turned her face to his, her hand cupping his jaw, breathing him in, intoxicated with him.

Gene pulled back enough to look into Alex's face, his eyes seeking hers, needing to see the answer to his own question reflected there; he felt her arms snake underneath his jacket and round his waist, pulling their bodies together, hot enough to weld steel. He took her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones, his fingers pushed through her hair, his mouth inches from hers...

'Oi, you bastard, get off her!' Jake thumped Gene on the shoulder, his face full of jealous fury. Gene barely glanced at him, shrugging him off like a horsefly. 'Sod off, kid. You're not wanted.'

Jake grabbed Alex, wrenching her away from Gene. 'Hey – I thought we...'

'No. I'm sorry...'

She got no further, as Gene pulled Jake away from her and shoved him hard in the chest. 'I said, sod off!'

'Gene, don't...'

Gene glared at her. 'Do you want him, then? Make up your bloody mind!'

Alex put both hands on Gene's chest, then lifted one to caress his face. 'Just give me a minute – it's not his fault.' She dropped the ghost of a kiss on his mouth, and turned to Jake, pulling him a few feet away.

She had to put her mouth close to his ear to be heard over the Human League. 'Look – I'm sorry. I thought it was over. Seems I was wrong.' She shrugged, smiling ruefully.

He yelled into her ear. 'He's too old for you. Middle aged porker.'

'I know. Can't be helped,' she laughed. Kissing him on the cheek, she mimed goodbye and turned back to find Gene. He was standing behind them, glowering. Even when Alex put her hands in his, he glared menace at the younger man.

They headed for the exit, but the door was blocked by five foot five inches of blonde outrage. Gene's young decoy was pissed and furious. 'Bastard. Using me to play some pathetic game with your old woman.' She gave Alex the once-over. 'She's almost as old as you and all. Here's the pint you ordered, you wanker...' She flung the beer in Gene's face with enough force to splash over Alex as well. Avenged, the little blonde flounced back into the crowd to cheers.

Alex was giggling helplessly. Gene gave up on a dignified exit, and picking Alex up, carried her out of Camden Palace to the sound of Dexy's Midnight Runners chanting his name.

'Oh, oh, oh, Geno!' sang Alex, wiping beer from her face. Geno dumped her on the pavement, weak with laughter, and they both slumped back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, gasping. Alex turned her head to look at Gene, reaching for his hand. 'I've never seen you laugh like that. Suits you.'

He squeezed her hand, pivoted to lean against her, press her against the bricks, stroke her face with his palm, the smile in his eyes warming her soul. 'We were rudely interrupted,' he muttered against her mouth; her lips tasted of beer, her mouth of wine. 'You really shouldn't mix grain and grape, Bolls,' he said between kisses. She laughed into his mouth, tasting whisky and smoke, finding softness and strength, aggression and tenderness as they explored each other, heat flaring in the chill spring night.

People spilled out of the club; a couple of wolfwhistles and cheers were enough to drive Alex and Gene away to find his car, hands gripped fast. When they reached the Quattro, parked in Mornington Crescent, Alex hesitated before getting in. 'We're covered in beer – shall we get a cab? You can get the car tomorrow.'

'Get in, Bollyknickers. Nothing wrong with the smell of beer.' He raised his eyebrows and gestured to her to get in the car. She got in the car.

'Where are we going then, Bolls?'

'Take me to paradise, Gene.'

He laughed again. It was irresistible. Alex reached out and put a hand behind his neck, pulling him to her so she could kiss the life out of him until the gear stick became too painful a distraction. Alex pushed Gene away and sat up against the passenger door, panting, hot, and sticky. She stared at him. She grinned a lazy, wicked grin. 'You know where we are.'

Gene raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut.

'Mornington Crescent.'

Gene nodded. 'So?'

'It's the last Wednesday in March.'

'And?'

'Covington's Feint. You'll just have to be huffed.'

'What?' Gene gave her the padded-cell look.

'In Mornington Crescent, Covington's Feint states that on the last Wednesday in March, horizontal play is only permissible when a pursuant has been Huffed.'

'What are you talking about, Loopy Lou?'

'I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue.'

'Me neither, darlin'. Although I like the sound of horizontal play. Now come here. As kissing you is the only way to stop your nonsense, I'm going to kiss you senseless...' He leaned across to her, his lips brushing her face. '...if that's all right with you.'

She purred as his tongue touched her lips, and opened her mouth to him, cupping her hand behind his neck, stroking gently, as they tasted each other, losing themselves in the kiss until there was a tap on Alex's window. She jumped, looked round to see a beat bobby peering in at her. Putting a hand over Gene's mouth, she wound the window down and smiled at the nice officer.

'Sorry, Miss. Sir. I must ask you to drive home.' He sniffed at the beer fumes wafting from the car. 'Are you all right to drive, sir? Haven't been drinking?'

Alex put a restraining hand on Gene's thigh. 'No officer, we're fine. Actually,' she simpered for the bobby's benefit, 'we had a bit of trouble at the Palace – someone threw some beer over us, which is why we look a bit bedraggled...' she said coyly, batting her eyelashes at him. Alex could feel Gene seething, but for once he had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

'I see, Miss.' He sounded highly sceptical. Alex forestalled the next question.

'We only live in Chalk Farm, so we'll be home in no time,' she lied.

'All right, Miss. Drive carefully, sir. Goodnight.'

With another coy smile, Alex wound her window up, and Gene started the car. Negotiating traffic, he gave her a sideways look that gave her goosebumps. 'You'd get Torquemada to let you off, with your tarty ways.'

'Want to see if I can persuade you to let me off, if I'm bad later?'

The car swerved a little. Gene gripped the wheel and looked across at her. 'My place?'

'Have you got a shower big enough for two?'

'Yours, then.'

'We are both pretty filthy.'

'Oh, I do hope so.'

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Gene drove them back to Scarborough Street, but he had a Londoner in the passenger seat, and discovered that Alex was keen to pass on her local knowledge.

'Don't go down Hampstead Road – go straight over and down Eversholt Street.... if you go round Lincoln's Inn you can get over to Fleet Street without getting stuck at the Aldwych...'

'Alex! if you want to run a school for taxi drivers, be my guest, but don't teach me the Knowledge tonight, OK?'

Alex, who had her hand on Gene's thigh, slid her fingers up to his groin, and murmured: 'Do you want to get home as fast as possible, or do you want to take...' she stroked him lightly. '... the scenic route?'

'Fleet Street, you said?'

Into second gear and screaming round the corner into Chancery Lane, with only a couple of taxis cursing him, Gene thought the Quattro suddenly felt remarkably warm for a cold night. Down to Blackfriars and on to Upper Thames Street, and the Audi tyres smoked all the way downriver to the Tower.

The two of them said little; Alex stroked Gene's thigh, just as a little gentle encouragement. Gene was beyond speech – he was barely able to focus on the road and keep the car in a straight line; herhand was creating havoc with every nerve in his body, and the blood had long since left his brain. All he could think about was getting them back to her flat in one piece. After that, the world could dismantle itself, as long as it did so quietly. He had plans which didn't allow for distractions.

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Neither of them said much more till they got to Alex's flat. As Gene parked and turned the engine off, he looked across at herin the heavy silence, her face tiger striped by the sodium street light streaking in through the windscreen. He reached across and stroked her hair. 'OK?' he asked her softly. She nodded, eyes huge, looking very young. As they reached the street door, Alex held out her hand to him, and led him in silence up the two flights of stairs to the flat; her hand was shaking too much to get the key in the lock, and Gene had to open the door for her. He was about to turn on the light, but she stopped him, needing the discretion of darkness.

The lock clicking shut sounded very loud; there was no sound from downstairs – Luigi must have closed up on time for once. Alex's heart was banging against her ribs; she could hear the blood racing through her veins, feel the butterflies, every raw nerve ending. It had come to this. So many lonely days, empty nights, all the frustrations, so much wasted time. But he was here, standing a touch away from her, in the half-light seeping in from the street, and all she had to do was take one step.

Gene was staring at a dream, and feared he'd only grasp at smoke when he reached out to touch that lovely face. His hand was shaking as he stroked her cheek, and he could feel her trembling. Alex covered his hand with hers, burned a kiss into his palm, and was in his arms, hands at his head, drawing his mouth to hers. It was a kiss of promises and truths. No more half measures, no more waiting.

Alex pressed against him, stroked her fingers through his hair, feathered tiny kisses along his jaw. 'Don't move.' She pulled away from him, crossed the room and pulled the phone jack out of the wall. She returned to Gene's arms and smiled into his eyes. 'No more interruptions. Someone else can save the world tonight.'

Gene took the words out of her mouth, tasting her thoughts, answering with his kiss till she could barely stand.

'Undress me, Gene,' she pleaded.

Without a word he turned her round, reaching over her shoulders to undo her blouse, pushing each pearl button slowly through its hole, his fingers stroking her skin, making her shiver with every delicate touch of his hands. Such beautiful hands. He bent to kiss her shoulder, pushing the fabric away to expose her flesh to his lips as the blouse dropped to the floor. Alex gasped, pushing back against him, reaching her hand behind his neck. Gene's breath hissed and he pulled her tight to him, groaning as she writhed against him. 'Alex... Christ, I want you so much...'

'Want you now. Gene, please...'

He nipped at her throat, his teeth grazing her flesh, drawing a moan of sheer lust from her. He muttered into her neck, between kisses. 'We've only got one first time. I don't want to rush it. Waited so long... Want to remember every touch, every sound.' He unfastened her bra and pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall; his hands cupped her breasts and he groaned at their soft, yielding weight. 'Every day since you burst into my life – every day I've dreamed of this. Christ, you feel good, Alex. So beautiful. Even more than I knew...'

His hands went to the zip of her skirt, and moments later it slid to the floor with a hiss of leather against nylon, and Alex stepped out of it, kicking it away. Gene groaned as he smoothed his hand down over her belly and under the black lace; Alex's head tipped back, inviting his kiss as his fingers explored her. She moaned into his mouth, and she reached back to stroke him, already so hard he grunted with the effort of keeping control when she touched him. 'Christ, you're so wet. Alex...'

She turned to him, the sexiest woman he'd ever seen, his for the taking. 'My turn,' she growled, pushing off his jacket and dragging off his tie. Gene reached for her breasts, but she pushed his hands away. 'Stand still,' she ordered. She undid the first few buttons of his shirt, holding his eyes with her own until Gene thought he'd ignite. With sudden violence she ripped at his shirt, sending the last few buttons pinging off; she pressed her mouth to his throat, her arms around him, and trailed wet kisses down his chest, sucking at his nipple until he grabbed her head and pulled her mouth to his, the kiss hot, deep, frenzied. She pulled away from him, eyes blazing, and grabbed his belt, unzipping him. She put her lips to his ear and murmured, 'Now we'll see if all those boasts were justified...' She shoved him gently backwards and pushed him down on to the sofa.

'Careful, Bolls. Don't bruise the goods.'

She knelt; just that was almost enough to finish him – so many of his dreams come true in that one moment. She pulled his shoes and socks off; dragged off trousers and pants to leave him free. She looked like the cat who'd got the gold top. 'Well, well. A fine, upstanding member of society, Mr Hunt. I'm very glad to note that you weren't falsifying reports.'

Gene looked disgustingly smug. 'Equipment up to standard, Inspector?'

'Outstanding, Mr Hunt. Question is...' She looked up at him through her lashes as her fingers teased the length of him. 'Do you know what to do with it?'

Gene's eyes glittered. 'Only one way to find out. Care to put it to the test?'

A slow, dangerous smile on her face, Alex stood up, six foot of naked sex in spiked heels and stockings looking down at him. 'Care to follow me into the examination room?' She turned and sashayed into the bedroom, leaving him to scramble up from the sofa, padding after her. She'd turned on a lamp, and was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, leaning back on her hands so her generous breasts were displayed to their glorious best.

'Jeesus...' he hissed. I could come just looking at her. He fell to his knees, and she put one foot on his chest, the steel tip of the heel cold against his skin. 'Uh-uh. Not so fast. What's the magic word?' She tipped her head back and looked at him down her eagle's nose, lips parted, looking like a king's mistress.

'Please?'

Alex raised one eyebrow. 'Begging already? The magic word, Gene. Say it.'

'I thought please was the magic word.'

'Not here. Say it, Gene.'

'Fuck this for a game of soliders.' He ducked back to get away from the stiletto heel and threw her leg over his shoulder; grabbed her hips and pulled her to him so she fell back, squealing, suddenly at his mercy. 'Magic enough for you?'

She smiled up at him wickedly, stretching her arms over her head. 'Spellbinding.'

He kissed his way up the inside of her thigh till he reached the top of her stocking and the satin flesh above it; Alex was moaning, her hands clutching at the bedcover. Gene snapped the clasps holding the stocking, and rolled the sheer black silk down the long, long leg, pulling off her shoe to free her foot from the sheer fabric. He kissed the naked skin from her toes back up to the top, and repeated the process for her right leg; then removed her suspender belt and – slowly – her knickers. He paused, drinking in the magnificent sight of her, naked, trembling with desire for him – wanting the image painted on his memory till the end of his days.

Alex opened her eyes, saw him watching her, shivered at the blaze in his eyes. 'Gene?'

He held his arms out to her. 'Come here.' She reached for him, was folded into his arms, his face buried in her neck, his lips on her skin, her legs wrapped round his hips. He cupped her head in his hands, looked deep into her eyes, saw no malice, nothing of cruelty or vicious rage. She's true, my Bolly. No doubts. He felt some great warm glow fill him till he was dizzy with it, high as any junkie. Happy. This is what it feels like. He could feel a smile splitting his face. Not a twitch of the lips but a god-almighty open-hearted grin.

Alex was stunned. The smile transformed him, lit him up from inside so his eyes shone. It gave him an expression of such sweetness... She stroked his cheek. 'Gene...'

'Alex... I love you. Love you.'

Every thought was blown from her mind as he kissed her, the tenderness flaming into passion, control blasted away by a rush of feeling. He was tasting her, driving her to the brink of madness, his tongue inside her, hot breath on her skin, hands, musician's fingers playing her till her body sang. She was shaking, lost in him.

When he entered her, she gasped, moaning his name; he stopped, holding himself still above her, shaking with the effort. 'Okay?'

'God, Gene, you fill me up.... so big...' She opened her eyes, black with desire. 'Don't stop...' she growled at him.

Long restless nights dreaming of this, months of craving at an end; after all this time, it seemed almost impossible to feel this good, feel her flesh around him, feel her inside his head, reaching into his soul. Godlike. Bloody heaven. Nothing like this before... No-one... never knew... Could never have enough of this. Want her forever...

He pushed deep inside her and felt her muscles clench around him, hot and tight. He groaned, thrust again, knew he wasn't going to last long. It was the last coherent thought he had; buried so deep in her, wrapped in her limbs, her moans building into screams as she spiralled up out of control, driving him on and on, deeper and harder...

Alex felt herself unravelling, every cell in her body screaming for release, every muscle shaking with unbearable tension, till she tipped into the welcoming dark, her body convulsing around him, rocking and shuddering as she flooded over him and felt him explode into her, shouting her name, thrusting till he was spent. He collapsed on her, and she wrapped her arms round him, loving the weight of him, the heat of their sweaty bodies heaving for breath, the trembling of exhausted limbs, the intense sweetness of union.

They drifted in the silence, cocooned in utter peace, letting their racing hearts calm and their breathing slow.

Alex turned her head and kissed Gene's ear. 'Worth the wait?' she whispered.

Gene lifted his head to look at her, stroked her face, smiling into her eyes. 'Every minute. Every frustrating bloody second of it. Worth waiting my whole life for that.' He kissed her with infinite tenderness. 'Love you.'

'You too, Gene.'

'You too Gene what?'

'You're not bad for an old bastard.'

He laughed softly.

'What I mean, Gene, is that I love you, Mr Hunt.'

There was a small silence.

'That's...' His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. 'That's good, because I think my cock is wedged inside you , so we may never be able to get dressed again.'

She laughed at that, a throaty chuckle. 'You silver-tongued devil, you. I can think of worse fates.' She pushed him off her, rolling with him and kissing his chest. 'But you still taste of beer, and you only came here for a shower. Get in there, you dirty beast.'

'Aren't you coming?'

'Quite soon, with a bit of luck, and again a bit later.' She waggled her eyebrows, and Gene felt his cock twitch. Quite soon.

Alex gave him a shove. 'Go on. I'll be in to make sure you've washed behind your ears.'

He disappeared, and she heard the rush of water and tuneless whistling. She flopped back on the pillow and flung her arms wide, taking a heaving breath and letting it go in a long sigh. Her body was humming, tingling. Alive, really alive. To hell with time and logic. Truth is Gene Hunt in my bed. Gene Hunt, best lover of my life. The Manc Lion, my beloved. Gene and Alex. Alex Hunt. She scrambled out of bed, startled by her schoolgirl fantasy. Stop it. I need a shower. Clear my head. She giggled, knowing that the planned shower would do anything but.

She shivered in the chill air and ran the few steps to the bathroom. The whole room was full of steam, with Gene humming as he stood under the cascade with his back to her.

Alex stepped in to join him, goosing him. He jumped, banging his elbow against the tiled wall.

'Christ! I'd forgotten about you. That almost broke my arm. You ought to be locked up.'

'Take me down, then, DCI Hunt.'

'You are such a tart.'

'Take a bite, then, officer. Look, here's a couple of berries to get your lips round.'

'Where? Oh, there. Are they ripe?'

'Have a feel. See what you think.'

'Hmmm. Feel good.' He was breathing hard. 'Feel about ready.'

'Then I think you should taste, just to make sure.' She reached up above her head and grasped the top of the shower panel.

'Christ – demanding bloody woman. The things I have to do.' He ran his hand slowly from her hip up to her ribcage, making her shudder. 'Just a little taste. Just to be polite...' Gene bent to his task, cupping her breast and taking the nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking, the water streaming down their bodies. His tongue was driving Alex demented; she gasped as his fingers trailed down her belly and pushed inside her. 'Oh god... don't be polite. Rude is... ahhh... good...' She moaned, arching her spine to pushing her breast into his mouth and her pelvis down on to his hand. He brought her quickly to climax, and she slumped, shuddering, into his arms, kissing his shoulder, gasping for breath under the pouring water.

She felt something nudging at her hip and looked down. 'Oh, look. Seems you have the horn. You ready for a tune, maestro?'

'I'm ready for something,' he muttered against her skin.

She reached down and took the instrument in her hand, squeezing gently.

He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. 'It's all take, take, take with you, isn't it.' He grunted as she squeezed a little harder. 'Oh, go on, then. Help yourself. Don't mind me.' The last word was a groan as Alex knelt and took him into her mouth, as he propped himself against the shower walls. She was making good progress when the water began to feel distinctly warm, rather than hot. 'Oh, fuck, it's going cold. Don't stop, Bolls, I'm... ahhhhh... almost... Christ... there...' Dropping quickly through tepid to cool, the water gushed over them as Alex worked him skillfully, but it was the sudden rush of icy water that shocked Gene into orgasm, cursing like an estuary fishwife as he came in her mouth. Shaking from cold and coitus, he pulled a shivering, giggling Alex to her feet and they stumbled out of the shower, pulling towels round themselves and scurrying back to bed. They dived under the duvet and huddled together, Gene rubbing her back roughly and Alex rubbing his hair dry with one of the towels.

'That was kinky,' Gene said when his teeth stopped chattering.

'There's a bottle of Scotch by the cooker.'

He leapt out of bed, skidded into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle and the one glass on the draining board, and slid back under the covers within thirty seconds.

Thirty minutes later they were warm, half pissed, and half asleep, Gene's head on Alex's shoulder, one leg wedged between hers, one hand possessively on her breast.

Alex was fiddling with the sticking plaster on Gene's right shoulder, which had come half unstuck in the shower. 'You need a new dressing, my love. Want me to do it for you?'

Gene jerked awake and rolled away from her, sitting forward so his arm was out of her reach. 'No.'

'Gene.'

'I don't want you to see it.'

Alex moved so she could face him. 'Gene. This has gone on for weeks. You have to trust someone.' She put a hand under his jaw and turned his head towards her. 'If you love me, surely you can let me help with this. A scar, right?'

'Yes. One I have to carry for the rest of my life. It makes me sick.'

'Did you choose it?'

'No.'

'Could you stop them doing it?'

'No.'

'Then how can it shame you? It's no reflection on you. Was it Haggerty who did it?'

He sighed. 'Bastard. No, not him, although turns out he was watching. It was Jack Carteret. And Miranda. He did the cutting. I don't know who hit me. Him, probably, although she's vicious enough.'

Alex put a hand to the plaster. 'Okay if I take it off?'

Gene looked at her for a moment, then nodded. Alex's eyes filled with tears when she saw the swastika sliced into the skin over his deltoid muscle. She ran her fingers lightly over the scar and bent to kiss it. 'Your poor arm. The bastards. This was torture. You must have been in agony. My poor darling love. I wish you'd been able to tell me so you weren't so alone.'

'Me too, Bolls. But didn't know what to believe. Where I stood with you. Haggerty told me...' He saw her face. 'I know. I'm sorry. It was my worst nightmare. You... like them... It was like being poisoned.'

'Tell me, Gene. Nothing you say will make me love you less. Get rid of it all.'

So he told her.

He spewed it all out as they lay spooned together, Alex holding him close, letting him talk into the dark. She was horrified at what he'd gone through, the strength it must have taken; admiring the judgement he'd shown, telling Dorney when he did.

'Dorney told me to tell you. He seemed to know about us before we did. I underestimated him.'

'What about Carol?'

'I learned not to underestimate Carol a long time ago. She's a good friend. She saw the scar but she doesn't know what happened.'

'Tell her. Only what you can; but she's worried about you. She's another one who saw through us. Oh, and I tell you who else. Cruickshank. He knew I'd defied his orders not to tell you anything. Must have had me bugged. Heard everything.'

'Smooth, spooky bastard. He wants to get into your knickers.'

'He's just a friend. It's possible, no matter what Harry told Sally.'

'Who?'

'Never mind. Cruickshank said he thought it was "charming". Me telling you everything. Said it was obvious you and I were... you know...'

Gene laughed. 'Charming? That's not in the Branch dictionary. He's a ringer.'

She kissed the nape of his neck. 'Seems everyone knew except you and me.'

He twisted round to face Alex and pulled her into his arms. 'We know now. No more lonely nights.' He kissed her, thankful beyond words.

'Ready for Dr Drake's Patent Remedy for Old Wounds?'

'Depends... What's in it?'

'A short burst of exercise to be taken on the horizontal plane, followed by three hours undisturbed sleep. To be repeated at frequent and regular intervals. And accompanied with the healing oath.'

'Oath?'

'I. Love. You.'

'Hmph. Quite like the sound of that.' He burrowed a hand below the covers. 'Here – you grab hold of this and if I... put my finger... there...'

She squealed, and gasped, and joined in.

xxxxxxxxxxx

'Whass time?'

Gene looked blearily at his watch but it wasn't there. He'd taken it off before their shower. 'Dunno, Bolls. S'light, so must be after seven.'

Alex stretched like a cat, her spine flexing, limbs extended in an elegant arc. Then she curled around him and rested her cheek against his before looking into his eyes, the bright, rock-pool eyes. 'I love you, Gene Hunt.'

He kissed her, the lightest of lingering kisses, then said against her lips. 'Love you too, and I said it first.'

Without moving an inch, she smiled, supercilious. 'Actually, you didn't.'

His eyes narrowed. 'Bloody did. Said it last night before you did.'

She dabbed a kiss on his nose. 'Yes, my love. But I said it weeks ago.'

'What, in Swahili?' He growled at her before kissing her again. 'Don't believe you, Bolly.'

'When I came back from the safe house and found you in my bed. You said you dreamt about me that night.'

'Mmmm. Good dream...'

'No dream. I was doing this...' She snuggled into him, kissed the hollow at the base of his throat, until he grabbed her and pushed her on to her back.

'You're a minx. Taking advantage of a defenceless, wounded man. Reprehensible, DI Drake...'

'You didn't complain. Anyway, that's when I told you.'

'I was unconscious, you daft tart. Doesn't count.'

She put a hand to his face, stroked his cheek tenderly. 'Counted for me, my love. I hadn't realised how much, till then. Seeing you with the kids at Alex Price's birthday party... So gentle. They loved you.' She pulled his head down to hers and whispered, ashamed to say it aloud. 'God help me, I was jealous of little Alex.'

Gene stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. 'You have no idea how much I wanted you in my arms that day. You looked so lonely. As if you needed someone, for once. My fierce, independent Bolly looking like a sad little girl. Precious little difference between you and little Alex, that day. That hug was for you, really.'

'Gene... You have no idea...' Alex felt tears roll hot from the corners of her eyes, to be kissed away by her lover. She looked into his eyes. 'And then my beautiful birthday present. Thoughtful, clever, generous man.'

'You said thank you very nicely, if I remember. Is that what they taught you at your posh totty school?'

She giggled. 'They didn't foresee that turn of events. I had to improvise.'

'So what's the protocol after a topnotch rogering?'

Alex gave him a slow, considered look. 'I'm not entirely sure. I'll have to improvise some more...'

xxxxxxxxxx

They woke again just after nine, and while Gene had a shower, Alex flung on a sweater and leggings, put the kettle on, found a pen and paper, and started drawing.

By the time Gene was dressed and had wandered into the kitchen for tea and toast, Alex had something to show him. 'Here, Gene, look at this. I woke up with an idea.' She pushed the piece of paper towards him along the counter top, and he stared at it.

'A chess piece.' It was a square, quartered in black and white, with a black knight on one of the white quarters.

'Exactly. A knight.'

'I don't play chess.'

'Doesn't matter. Don't you see? Look.' With the pen, she traced the lines of a swastika through the black and white squares. 'See? A tattoo. Fill in the two black squares and the black knight, and put a border round the whole thing. Abracadabra. Sexy tattoo, no more scar.'

Gene stared at the little drawing. He shifted from one foot to another and took a deep breath. 'Do you know what, Bolls?'

She looked anxious. 'What?'

He turned on his heel and bent at the waist, so he was nose to nose with her. 'You. Are. Brilliant.' He leaned forward another few inches and dabbed a kiss on her smiling mouth. But that didn't seem good enough, and he put his arms round her and pulled her close for a different sort of kiss, altogether more distracting, and the toaster started belching black fumes before they broke apart.

'Shit. That was the last of the bread. There's crispbread. Or muesli.'

Gene looked disgusted. 'No, ta.'

'Bacon sarnie at Bridie's?'

'Need to keep my strength up, Bolly. You're a demanding woman. Could be the death of me.'

Alex looked shattered. 'Don't...'

Gene took her hand. 'Joke, Bolls.'

'Even as a joke. Please, my love.' There were tears in her eyes.

He pulled her into his arms. 'Alex... you're stuck with me, now.' He kissed the top of her head, possible when she was in her socks. 'I'm going to see Danny Plum.' Seeing the unspoken question on her face, he explained. 'He's a little scrote who owes me several favours, and owns a tattoo parlour behind Leman Street.' He scooped up Alex's chess drawing and stuffed it in his pocket. 'Then I'm going to see Firoz. So I'll see you over the road in a couple of hours.' He kissed her quickly and went to the door. Then he came back, looking a bit shifty. 'Er... I can come back here tonight?'

Alex looked petulant. 'Maybe... One on condition.'

'What?'

'You come and say goodbye nicely enough to keep me going.'

Gene sighed theatrically and crossed the room. He pecked her on the cheek. 'Satisfied?'

'No.'

He put an arm round her shoulders and kissed her fiercely, deeply, bending her backwards over the work top, pushing his other hand into her knickers, long fingers pushing into her, thumb doing unspeakable things to sensitive bits of her until she was moaning into his mouth, quivering like a cello string. It took him just over a minute to reduce her to a moaning, trembling wreck. He hooked a foot round the leg of a kitchen chair and dragged it over so he could sit her down, since she was incapable of standing unaided.

'Goodbye, my love. I'll let you get your own back tonight. If I'm invited.'

Alex nodded, beyond speech, and watched as her lover swept out of the flat to set the world back on its axis.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC