Chapter Fifty

Alex sighed and tapped her fingers on the dashboard. Having been left to take care of Gene's car she was growing ever more bored and annoyed. It didn't matter how many times she tried to reassure him, Gene felt sure a dodgy ambulance would veer off the road and wreck his pride and job.

Finally she caught sight of some familiar figures coming her way; a puffy-eyed Simon and a limping Gene trying to carry Malcolm between them. She thought about everyone's physical health - her arm, Gene's stab wound, Malcolm's gunshot and Kim in hospital after her miscarriage. Simon was the only one amongst them still in one piece.

She opened the door and stepped out of the car.

"As you can see, the car's still in one piece," she pointed out.

"You can't be too careful with these medical types," Gene told her, "all that gas 'n air around, never know what they might drive into." He unloaded Malcolm into the car and gave a sigh of relief. "That's not an experience I want to relive."

"Me neither," Simon rubbed his shoulder, the weight of Malcolm taking its toll.

Alex looked at him, a little concerned.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

Simon tried to hide his red eyes.

"Fine," he said quietly, "hay fever, that's all."

"In October?"

Simon didn't reply. He'd done his crying now and didn't want to talk about it again.

"I'm OK," he said quietly, "honestly." He turned to Gene, "so what's the big secret? Where are you taking us?"

Gene seemed to ignore him for a moment. Either that or he didn't hear the question. He got into the driver's seat and started the engine as Simon and Alex got in too. Finally, as they began to pull out of the hospital car park, Gene glanced behind him to address Simon's question.

"To the pub," he said.

~xXx~

For ten minutes, Gene listened to Simon listing all the reasons why going to a pub was not a good idea. He stayed silent. He doesn't get it yet, he reminded himself.

"…and Malcolm's on pain relief and tranquilisers so alcohol could interact with them and make him really ill," Simon continued, "and Malcolm's suit is going to stink of smoke, and it's the middle of the afternoon and we should be at work! And then there's the fact that I've got no money and you'll get pissed off if I don't buy you a drink. And Malcolm's just lost his fiancée, I don't think covering up his grief with alcohol is going to do him any favours! Plus there's the -" he trailed off as Gene pulled up at the side of the road, "why have we stopped here?"

"We're there," said Gene.

"There's no pub around here," frowned Simon.

"Come with me," Gene said, opening the door.

Simon followed suit and stepped out the car.

"But there's no pub around here, there's only -" he began but Gene cut him off.

"Simon," he said, "shut your twenty-first century trap and come with me." He peered in through the window at Alex. "Bols…"

Alex gave an understanding smile.

"I'll wait here," she said quietly. She watched as the two men walked around to help Malcolm out of the car.

"Why aren't you coming?" frowned Simon, beginning to wonder exactly what kind of excursion this was.

Alex gave a distant smile.

"It's not my local," she said quietly. She looked at Malcolm and, with a flicker of sadness across her face, she said, "Goodbye, Malcolm."

Malcolm didn't sense the emotional tone in her voice as he gave a half-hearted wave and leaned heavily on Gene one side and Simon the other to help him move. The three men began walking along a near-deserted road that seemed to lead to nowhere. Malcolm had a vague awareness that something strange was going on but the grief, drugs and pain countered any intention he had of asking about it. Simon, on the other hand, had no such qualms and voiced at least three times that he suspected Gene had either gotten lost, gone mad or had swapped sides and was leading them straight to Keats in the middle of a dusty yard. That last suggestion had earned him the promise of a thump if he ever voiced it again.

When the car was out of sight and Simon was seriously starting to flag from the Malcolm-propping he prepared to say again that he thought Gene had gone crazy when suddenly he could sense a little static in the air; a faint buzzing and the smell that you get when you pull your jumper over your head and leave your hair standing on end.

As they continued to walk, Simon noticed that Malcolm started to lean on him less and less. He gained back a little more motion and strength in his leg and with each step he seemed to feel the pain a little less. Now the hairs were beginning to tinge; on the back of Simon's neck, but even so he still knew there was no pub down this road.

"Gene, honestly," he tried one last time, "you've got to have made a mistake. There's no pub down here. There's only a window warehouse and that wasn't even built until two thousand and fffff-Fuck me…"

There before them a large building stood; a sign rocking back and forth and creaking just a little as the breeze blew against it. In the dimming light of the late afternoon its windows seemed to glow with ethereal energy and a distant babble of voices could be heard through the air. Simon's eyes scanned the signage that dominated the outside of the edifice, The Railway Arms boldly emblazoned across its walls.

"What the hell…?" Malcolm whispered. Without thinking he let go of Simon and Gene and placed almost his full weight back on his leg which was healing by the moment.

"Old copper tradition," Gene told him, "when the job's complete - time for the pub." He looked seriously at Malcolm. "And your job here is complete."

"W-what do you mean?" asked Malcolm, his lip trembling as the strangeness of the moment overtook him. He looked from Gene to the building as the door slowly opened.

"Been a hard day," Gene said seriously, "but no matter what you've been through, there's no ill the pub can't fix." he looked past Malcolm to a figure stepping out of the door, the man who always had a smile for Gene and all the lost souls he sent his way. "Nelson," he nodded to him.

"It's been a while, mon brave!" Nelson greeted Gene.

"Yeah, well," Gene began, "Drake's been the busy one lately. Thought it was about time I showed one of my men where to find the best service in town." he gave Malcolm a slap on the back. "Will you look after my man Malcolm for me? He's had a bit of a day."

"Of course," Nelson smiled warmly at Malcolm, "we've been expecting you! Lady at the bar has a cold beer standing by for you."

"What lady?" frowned Malcolm, "who knew we were coming"

Simon swallowed and found himself shaking slightly. Something felt very strange indeed. He couldn't understand what was happening but it didn't feel like a part of the same world where his feet were walking or his lungs were breathing the air.

"Gene?" he said quietly, a little scared.

"Oh, right," Gene cleared his throat, "this is Shoebury. You won't be seeing much of 'im, mind. Teetotal, this one."

"Or at least I was until you started spiking my lattes," Simon hissed.

"Very pleased to meet you," Nelson said with a nod and a smile that helped to put him a little at ease.

It was then that Gene noticed something strange about Nelson's head. What at first he'd taken to be a new piece of fashionable headwear he realised now was a crudely-wrapped bandage.

"You 'ad and accident, Nelson?" he asked.

"Just a little knock," Nelson assured him, "don't worry - the lady took care of that for me…"

As he stepped back, the doorway of the pub came into full view of the three men. As the light and smoke began to clear, the silhouette of a young woman sitting at the bar could be seen just inside. Malcolm's heart recognised her before his eyes and mind followed suit. With a tiny gasp of shock he found himself taking an unsteady step forward, followed by another then a third. With each step the pain began to lesson, his wound disappearing and fading away.

Inside the pub, the young woman came into clearer focus now. No longer just a silhouette he saw her beautiful, wavy, dark brown hair, her warm and compelling smile, the sparkle in her eyes, and a large white bandage crudely wrapped around her own chest.

"Susannah?" Malcolm breathed, "but how -?"

He glanced back at Gene and Simon.

"Job done," Gene echoed his earlier words.

Beside him, Simon's hand rose to his mouth involuntarily and he gave a quiet gasp as the reality of the situation began to sink in. His lips moved a little as he tried to speak but the words wouldn't form. He felt his eyes prick with tears yet again as the enormity of what he was learning settled upon him and he gazed at the sight of the woman he'd held in his hands just a few hours earlier as she passed away smiling back at them.

"You'd better get in there," Gene told Malcolm, "before someone else tries to pick 'er up. I've got friends in there who'll be sniffing around someone like Kite the second they catch whiff of her perfume." He paused and turned to Nelson. "How is Ray these days?"

"Still keeping a spare seat for you," Nelson told him.

Gene nodded slowly.

"Might be a while yet," he said. He turned back to Malcolm. "Go on, then," he said, "you can't keep a lady waiting."

Malcolm hesitated for the briefest moment, He felt his heart beginning to race and his legs turned to jelly inside his velvet, purple trousers. He took a step or two towards the pub, then turned around.

"Guv?" he began, "….thank you. For everything."

Gene nodded.

"Get one in for me, an' all," he said "and Shoebury's on lemonade duty, right?"

Simon could hardly speak. The whole situation had overwhelmed him and he couldn't get his mouth in gear. Finally, he licked his dry lips and turned to Malcolm.

"Before you go," he said quickly. Malcolm stopped as he was about to take another step towards the pub.

"Yes, Sir?"

Simon hesitated.

"This…. This has been really bugging me" he began with a nervous laugh, "but what is your surname?"

Malcolm looked a little blank.

"Malcolm," he said.

"No, your surname.

"That's right. Malcolm."

"Your name s Malcolm Malcolm?" Simon frowned.

Malcolm nodded.

"My mum and the registrar had a bit of a misunderstanding when my birth certificate was produced," he said, "…I was originally supposed to be named Tarquin."

Simon pulled a face to prevent himself from laughing, and managed to turn a snicker into a cough.

"Well," he said quietly, "I guess… this is goodbye, Malcolm Malcolm."

Malcolm nodded and gave one last smile.

"Goodbye," he whispered.

Slowly he turned around and let his feet take him toward the doors that beckoned him. Simon and Gene watched as he took a brave walk toward the pub and stepped inside eternity.

As Nelson followed him and closed the door behind him, the two DCIs caught one final fleeting glimpse of two lovers, reunited, their arms enclosing one another in an embrace that would last as long as heaven would allow.

The doors closed. The static died. What was once right there before them, now gone in an instant.

Simon stared into the dusty, empty space and swallowed so hard that Gene could hear him gulp. With tears threatening to spill over, he took a deep breath.

"I get it now," he whispered.

Gene turned to him. He studied the expression on the man who had been through so much in such a short space of time. He nodded slowly. He could see that.

"I couldn't have told you," he said quietly, "words… they're not really meant for this kind of thing, You 'ave to see it."

Simon nodded, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the pub had been a moment earlier.

"Malcolm's job wasn't over until Susannah's was," he whispered, "they were a pair. They needed each other. They were both here to learn and grow and live." he looked at Gene, completely new respect dawning upon him. "You helped them."

Gene stood back a little and spread his palms.

"That's what I do," he said quietly, "that's what we do."

Simon swallowed again. He was trying to fight the tears but it was getting harder.

"All those people," he whispered, "all those people in the pub… you and Alex…."

"No, not Alex," Gene interrupted, "she's…. well, she's got her own local." He noticed Simon frown curiously at him. "it was before your time, son. Luigi's. It closed not long before you arrived the first time. Had to disappear to… reappear. If you know what I mean."

Simon wasn't sure he did, but nodded anyway.

"And me?" he asked.

"You'll have a place," Gene told him, "it'll happen. Probably some poncy fruit juice bar, knowing you." he paused. "Different doorways. Different steward. All lead to the same place inside."

Simon bit his lip.

"Heaven?" he asked.

Gene looked a little awkward.

"That's a bit of a strong word for me," he said, "we just call it a better place. What could be better than somewhere with free beer and a saloon bar?"

Simon looked back at the empty space one last time. His mind went over the events of the day - the showdown with Keats, finding out that he was dead, helping Susannah to pass over... He almost shook from the magnitude of the day.

"I didn't want this," he whispered, "when it happened… with Susannah… I would have done anything if you'd taken it away from me."

Gene looked at him seriously.

"And now?"

Simon took a deep breath.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "but I do know now what you do. And I know why it's important."

Gene made sure Simon looked him squarely in the eye.

"You came back here for a reason," he said, "you're needed."

Simon hesitated. Maybe he was. He knew it would take a long time for him to truly believe that. But every time he thought about the sensation as he helped Susannah's soul to be free, and the sparkle in her eyes as she waited for Malcolm to join her, his importance to the situation seemed a little more true all the time.

"I think I need one of your special lattes," he whispered, trembling ever so slightly.

Gene couldn't help but feel buoyed by Simon's comment.

"Now you're learning," he said. He gave Simon a slap on the back unexpectedly which scared seven shades of hell out of him, then turned him around to take a slow walk back to the Fiat. "I'll make a real detective out of you yet, Shoe-boy."

Simon glanced at Gene sideways. He hadn't heard that name for a little while. Despite himself, a flicker of a smile graced his expression.

"This could be the start of a beautiful friendship," he mocked.

"Not unless you get the first round in tonight," Gene told him sternly.

~xXx~

From the other side of Eternity…

She waited nervously at the bar, a glass of wine in her hand and an anxious expression across her face.

"He'll be here," the friendly but concussed barman told her.

Susannah smiled, although her smile showed her nervousness.

"I hope so," she said. She paused. "How is your head?"

Nelson backed away slightly. One crudely-applied bandage was enough.

"Good as new," he told her.

"Good," said Susannah. She glanced around at all the people with bandages, slings and dressings. She'd certainly been busy since she'd arrived.

How she got there was something of a mystery to her. She remembered Keats pressing his gun into her back and marching her around the building. She remembered fear and a threat to Malcolm's safety. She remembered agreeing to something she didn't want to do and then she remembered being grasped in Keats's evil hands, turned around and used as a shield against a bullet meant for the devil personified.

There were moments of pain, blood and terror. She remembered wishing she'd brought her first aid kit with her, before succumbing to the pain and collapsing to the ground. She remembered the evil sneer looming over her; then moments of fighting between three men while her soul hung in the balance.

Then she remembered Simon, his words were so soothing. She remembered feeling an enormous release; letting go, escaping the confines of a broken and pained body to float freely into the ether.

And then -

"What can I get for you?"

On the stool, waiting to be served.

It made very little sense to her. Neither did the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces around her. All those who had worked alongside her and disappeared so suddenly, all those who had died during their brave work with CID, all there beside her.

She was drawn from her thoughts by the blinding light of life as Nelson opened the door and stepped outside She felt her heart jump into her mouth, trying to escape her as a long scream of anticipation and joy. She could see figures outside. The light made it difficult to pick out their features but as one slowly walked toward her she knew instinctively who it was.

"Malcolm," she breathed.

There were moments of chatter from outside, voices, goodbyes and then the men; the one she loved walking purposefully towards her.

All at once she flew from her stool, unable to contain herself. Her arms flew around his neck and his gripped her in a warm and loving embrace. She heard him whisper her name over and over again as he held her and felt his tears stinging her neck.

Finally, when time had passed and Malcolm's grip on her slowly released, she took a step back to look at him properly.

"Mal," she whispered.

"Susie," Malcolm held her hands and stared at her, afraid she would disappear if he looked away, "oh god, I never thought I would see you again."

"I'm right here," she whispered.

"I saw you die," Malcolm choked back a tear.

"But it's OK," Susannah urged, pointing at her bandage, "look - I gave myself first aid!" she pointed to Nelson as he returned to his usual place behind the bar, "and to him… when my first aid box flew out my hand and hit him on the head…" she glanced around, "and to this guy… hey, Sam…" she looked behind her as a man in a leather jacket turned around at the mention of his name, "how's that finger?"

A slightly annoyed Sam, who had been forced into accepting the application of a tourniquet for his paper cut, gave a strained smile and lifted his glass.

"Better, thank you," he said.

"And to all these people…." Susannah waved her hand to indicate myriad men and women with bandages, plasters and other assorted medical paraphernalia.

Malcolm stared at Susannah. There was a telling twinkle in her eye. She might have died - twice over - but she was more alive than ever, because they were together.

"I love you," he told her with a gentle laugh.

Susannah's heart skipped at beat at those words. That was all she needed to know. With Malcolm beside her she knew she would be happy for eternity.

She slipped her hand into her pocket to get some money.

"Let' get one in for the Guv" she whispered.

Malcolm nodded.

"For the Guv," he echoed. Thy had a lot to thank him for.

They hoped that one day he would make it through the doors of the Railway Arms so they could tell him so in person.