Chapter Fifty One

Alex stared out of the window, her mind skimming through a hundred different moments of the day. She rested her feet up on the dashboard, a sadness settling upon her heart as she thought about never seeing Susannah or Malcolm again. She understood now why Gene had held onto Chris and Ray for so long. They had a job to do, of course, but that didn't stop friendships from being formed along the way.

She caught sight of Gene and Simon walking slowly back to the car and quickly put her feet back down, brushing off a little dust and mud from the dashboard. She knew Gene wouldn't be impressed if he found her footprints all over the inside of his precious car.

She realised that she felt more 'real' than she had in weeks. Maybe even months. Although her strange symptoms had only started a couple of days earlier she'd been starting to feel a little less stable in her footing for some time. Being pulled from Gene's world have given her a rude wake-up call. Inside her, she almost felt as though she could just go on forever in this limbo state, have a full life with Gene then go back to Molly as though nothing had ever happened. Now she knew that the end was near.

She glanced at her watch. It was as much her enemy as it was her friend. Tick, tock, tick, tock. She had treasured for so long the sound of it ticking, knowing that with every click of the second hand she was one second closer to getting home to Molly. Now she saw it as a double-edged sword with every tick taking her one second closer to losing Gene.

Her thoughts were disturbed as the bulk of Gene appeared in the car beside her.

"Malcolm get there alright?" she asked quietly.

"Jarvis Cocker delivered to the pub, no problem." Gene confirmed.

Simon slipped into the back seat, looking a little pale.

"How are you?" Alex asked.

Simon wasn't sure himself. His head was in a mess; a huge, jumbly mess. He needed some time to work through that. Until then, there wasn't much he could do but to try to keep a level of coherency about him.

"I'm OK," he said quietly.

Gene frowned.

"You 'ad yer feet up 'ere, missus?" he asked, indicating a speck of mud Alex had missed.

Alex flushed and cleared her throat.

"Of course not," she lied.

Gene roughly polished the dashboard with his sleeve.

"Some people have got no respect for cars," he commented, "I found a bloody suspicious looking stain in the back the other day, an' all…"

Simon recalled Kim's admission about Keats and Gene's car. He coughed and spluttered for a moment, trying to cover it up by pretending he had a tickle in his throat, and scanned the backseat for the stain Gene was talking about. When he couldn't see it he realised he must be sitting on it.

'Oh, UGH!' his mind screamed, 'Keats sex stain! Keats sex stain! Under my arse! Ugh!'

Alex turned to Gene.

"Did you see Nelson?"

Gene nodded.

"Someone's been giving 'im first aid," he commented.

Alex spluttered a giggle before she could stop herself.

"I wonder who that could be?" she said.

Simon leaned forward and asked,

"Alex? What's Luigis?"

Alex glanced around, a fond smile across her face.

"That's where I take them," she said quietly, "that was my local. When someone reaches the end of their journey, Luigi's appears for me and Luigi is the one who helps them on their way."

"Who's Luigi?"

"Cooked the best steak and chips pizza in the country," Gene told him.

Simon wasn't sure that was a particularly helpful description of someone who allegedly helped Alex to allow souls to move on but he wasn't sure he wanted to press the matter any further.

"So when you go inside…" he began but Gene cut him off.

"It doesn't matter whose door you go through," he said, "when you're in there, it all joins together. Everyone will be there. All the people you've known."

"As long as they've gone the right way," Alex said quietly.

The three of them fell silent for a moment, the very real threat of Keats taking someone at any time weighing upon their minds. Eventually, as time began to shudder and shift around their shoulders, Gene started up the car and told them,

"That's enough metaphysical bollocks for one day. Back to the office, then off for a real drink. Why should Malcolm get all the fun?"

As Gene stepped on the accelerator and began to speed away, Simon frowned with confusion.

"The office?" he repeated, "at Fenchurch East?"

"Where else?" said Gene, "not setting foot inside Keats's walk-in wardrobe."

"B-but it was blown to pieces," Simon frowned, "are they going to let us in?"

Gene focused on the road ahead.

"Just grab an 'ard 'at and stick with me," he said, "you'll see."

~xXx~

Simon gazed around him, mouth open wide as he followed Gene through the corridors and into CID. Where just a few hours ago chunks of building had been missing, many workers were in the midst of rebuilding the damage. Men in hard hats, bricks, scaffolding and machinery were scattered everywhere. Simon pulled his jacket around himself, the day suddenly colder and darker than he swore it had been a few minutes earlier.

"I don't understand," he whispered, "how could all this have happened in just a few hours?"

Gene picked up a newspaper that one of the workmen had been reading on his break and passed it to Simon.

"It's not been a few hours," he said, "it's been a few weeks."

Simon took the paper, thinking Gene was going crazy again, and scanned for the date. When he spotted it he gave an involuntary gasp.

"Monday the twentieth of November?" he whispered, "that's…. that's not possible!"

"We shifted two years when you first arrived in eighty five," Alex told him.

"We've hit the reset button," Gene said with a sigh, "time to start again."

"But how can time just change?" cried Simon as a young red-haired female DC came up to him with a large, padded envelope.

"Excuse me, sir?" she said, "this came for you in the post today."

Simon took the package suspiciously and glance from Gene to Alex. He wondered momentarily if there was an exploding surprise from Nailer inside but neither seemed concerned so he opened it curiously and slipped a wooden prism from within. He stared at it, turned it around in his hands and felt a strange sensation choking him in his chest as the breath was taken from him. Silently, he passed it to Alex, who looked at it then glanced at Gene and passed it his way.

DCI Simon Shoebury, it said, Hi-Tech Crimes Division.

"Population explosion," Gene began with a sigh, scratching his head, "there are more people in the world… more coppers in the world… and more trouble in the world. More of them need help. More of them need to work through their problems. Couldn't do it on me own any more."

"So first, I was needed here," Alex continued for him as Simon took the name block from Gene.

"And now it's my turn," he said quietly.

Gene nodded.

"We're moving on," he said, "new crimes. New departments. New blood."

"But… but why me?" Simon shook his head slowly, unable to fathom out why he of all people had been chosen, "there must be hundreds of others who could do this."

"None that have the heart for it," Alex said quietly.

"You've been here before," Gene told him, "you understood. And you killed Keats in yer own time. That's about the biggest indicator for promotion you can get in this job."

The young DC approached him again.

"Sir, the builders say the electrics will be restored to your office by tomorrow."

"My office?" Simon frowned.

Gene shrugged.

"Comes with the job," he said. He nodded to the DC as she wandered away. "She must be one of yours."

Simon's head was swimming. This was all a bit too much to take in.

"What happens to Kim?" he asked, "she just had a miscarriage this morning… now it's one month later?"

"Kim knows where she's from so for her the change of time is exactly the same as it was for us," Alex told him, "she'll think no time has passed at all. Someone will have to explain to her."

"Is she still in hospital?" Simon asked.

Alex nodded.

"For her, physically, only a few hours have passed. As far as the hospital is concerned, she was admitted on the twentieth of November."

"This is making my head hurt," Simon mumbled. He spotted someone across the room who he wasn't pleased to see. "Oh bloody hell, what's he doing here?"

"Who?" asked Gene

"That git!" Simon cried, "the fake Robin! The prat who kept following you up to CID!"

Gene followed Simon's glare to a uniformed gentleman at the other side of the room.

"Oh joy above!" he cried in anger, "just the man to brighten the day!"

Alex tried to mask a giggle.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news but it looks like he's been sent over to deal with your admin, Guv!"

Gene narrowed his eyes at the interloper.

"Brilliant! This is a day to go down in the record books! A barrel of laughs from start to finish! What's next? Me old P.E. teacher turning up to give me a bollocking for bunking cross country running?"

There was a crash the other side of the office and one of the few remaining doors slammed as a man of Simon's age or there about burst in, his foot jammed in a tin of paint.

"First you destroy my office and paint it shitty colours," he cried, "then I find all my officers have disappeared, and then I stick my foot in your bloody paint pot which was - can I point out - left laying around with no regard to health or safety?"

Gene folded his arms and gave a quiet smirk. He turned to Simon.

"I think this one's yours."

Simon looked at Gene in horror.

"Mine?" he cried, "how do you know?"

"Gut feeling," said Gene.

"He could be yours!" Simon protested, "or Alex's!"

"Ten quid says he's yours," said Gene.

Simon reached into his pocket.

"You're on," he said, then paused. "Shit, no money."

The man began to wallop his way towards them, one foot metallically clomping on the floor with the paint pot still held fast.

"Alright," he addressed the three DCIs, "perhaps one of you can kindly tell me what the hell is going on and what has happened to my damn office?"

"Yer name?" Gene asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What's yer name?"

"What's yours?" the man countered, increasingly anxious.

"Excuse me," Simon interrupted, "can we see some identification please?"

"With pleasure," the man said crossly, reaching into his pocket and pulling forth his ID. He held it out to Simon who took it and read.

"DI Peter Vickery, CID: Hi-Tech Crimes Division." he paused, "Shit."

Gene smirked.

"Drinks are on Shoebury tonight," he said.

Alex glanced at Gene.

"I thought we were talking tonight," she said quietly.

Gene tried to ignore the subject. The closer he got to talking about it the less able he felt ready to face a discussion about losing Alex. He focused his attention on the newcomer instead.

"You'll be wanting to speak to your DCI here," he said, indicating Simon.

"DCI?" Peter repeated, "I'm the bloody DCI around here!"

Gene almost jumped for joy. Could this be any more satisfying? Oh, he was going to enjoy watching Simon deal with this.

"Go on, Shoebury," he smirked, "he's all yours!"

Simon scowled.

"Thank you, Hunt," he said. He turned to Peter. "You'd better come with me."

As he began to lead Peter away, Gene grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Remember, Shoebury," he began, "you can't say a word. This is all real. Understand?"

Simon's heart began to sink. He remembered his own arrival in 1985 and the frustration at not being believed. He longed to tell this man that he knew what he was going through; that he had been through it too, but he understood why that wasn't possible. It was simply not an option.

"Of course," he nodded, and set off to try to placate the new arrival.

Alex looked at Gene. Now the distractions had gone she needed to address his earlier comment.

"Can I have a word, Guv?" she asked seriously.

Gene glanced at her anxiously. He wasn't sure he was ready to face this conversation yet.

"Haven't you got paperwork in your own department to organise, Drake?"

Alex began to frown. This wasn't the kind of behaviour she expected from Gene. Maybe the Gene of old, but for the last decade their relationship had been fairly simple in nature, nothing complicated or angsty, no games, no messages hidden in what they were trying not to say to one another. The sudden coldness that Gene was sending her way came as a shock.

"Now," she said firmly, and marched to his office before he could stop her. Inwardly he groaned. It wasn't just his team who had been through a lot that day and he wasn't mentally up to this conversation yet. With a sigh he followed her.

"What's this about?" he asked, already reaching for the bottle.

"You know what this is about," Alex said quietly, "Gene… why are you being so cold?"

"It's November," Gene shrugged.

"You know that's not what I mean," Alex said crossly, "ever since I…" she trailed off. How on earth was she supposed to label her experience? Fading out? Disappearing? Waking up? "Ever since I left here and came back, you've been treating me differently."

Gene looked down.

"It came as a shock, Bolly," he said, pouring himself an extremely large scotch, "I knew it was coming. Known it for years. But I still wasn't expecting it." he paused as he mentally added that he hadn't been expecting how traumatic her awakening would be, either. He remembered Sam blinking out and in from the world. He recalled when Simon's body vanished in an instant from his first time around. He could recall a couple of other occurrences of people disappearing and they'd all happened practically instantaneously.

But Alex? Her return to the real world had been long and drawn out, full of pain and nausea. Watching her go through that had broken Gene's heart. So had watching her slip in and our of consciousness. What was so different about Alex to the others?

"We both knew it was going to happen one day, Gene," she said quietly.

"That didn't make it any better when it actually did," he told her.

"We always knew we were on borrowed time," Alex reminded him.

Gene slumped into his chair.

"I know," he said quietly.

"And if you're regretting not making the most of it…"

"What d'you mean?" frowned Gene, "we've had ten bloody brilliant years, and a few flirty ones before that."

"Ye-e-e-es," Alex said slowly, "but we've been looking over our shoulder the whole time, just waiting for it to end."

"Only time you were looking over your shoulder was when we were doing it over your desk…" Gene began but Alex cut him off.

"You see?" she cried, "every time I try to talk to you about us and our situation you turn it into something flippant! Sex and jokes - is that all I am to you?"

"No, of course not," Gene shook his head but Alex hadn't finished.

"It's not like I ask for much," she said, "maybe your name on the lease instead of getting post addressed to Gene Hunt, Back Seat of the Fiat, Care of Alex Drake. Maybe just one ring on my finger, even of we never get to make it official with the gold band to match. Maybe just forgetting we're on a countdown and trying to build a life together instead of just alongside each other."

"We've been in each others pockets for years!"

"But never with anything concrete! No sign of commitment, no…" she trailed off and put her head in her hand.

"You know how I feel about marriage," Gene huffed.

"You're not the only one who didn't find married life a breeze," Alex reminded him, "I'm divorced too. We learn from our mistakes."

"Yeah, and I learnt not to get married!"

Alex began to breathe heavily. A lump gathered in her throat and made it hard for her to breathe deeply enough to get the oxygen she needed into her body. She looked at Gene angrily.

"Have I been wasting these last ten years with you?" she asked, "did you ever actually want a relationship? Or just a place to park your backside at night?"

"Have you quite finished, Bollinger Knickers?" Gene cried.

"No," said Alex, "I'm tired of holding my tongue about it just because you're a commitmentphobe!"

"You don't get it, do you?" cried Gene, "You think I'm not committed to you? You think I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life with you?" He paused, looking at her nervous but expectant face. "It's because -" His words failed to leave his mouth. He tried to tell her the real reason but it jammed in his throat. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't say it. He couldn't be responsible for Alex making a decision that he desperately wanted her to make. He hung his head. "No, you're right," he lied, "I'm scared of the 'C' word. Can't do it." He took a large gulp of his scotch and drew in a sharp breath. "Maybe you'd be better off spending yer last days here without me. I can't give you what you want."

Alex stared at him, her ears ringing with words she'd never expected to hear. She tried to swallow to block the tears already stinging her eyes.

"And that's it, is it?" she whispered, "all these years, and that's how you want it to end?"

"I can't give you what you want, Bols," Gene said quietly.

Alex stared at him, waiting for him to tell her it was a joke, waiting for him to take it back, waiting for him to change his mind - just wiping out the words he'd spoken that had ripped a hole through her heart. But there was no retraction, no apology and no way of changing what had been said. She hung her head.

"If that's how you feel," she whispered, "then maybe we should call it a day."

Gene stared at her and forced himself to nod.

"I think we should," he whispered.

Alex swallowed again, her lip trembling and her voice wavering as she said,

"I'll pack your stuff up tonight. I'll leave it for you in you office tomorrow."

"I'll pick it up," said Gene.

"Don't bother," whispered Alex. She turned and walked quickly out of his office, across to Kim's desk and stood there with her back to Gene, her hand resting against the desktop as though to keep her upright while her world crumbled around her.

She didn't even glance up as Gene exploded out of his office like a volcano erupting and burst through the doors into the corridor beyond CID, glass in hand. He felt an enormous sense of anger; not toward Alex but to himself, to the situation and to the horrible knowledge that he'd told the most awful of lies to her.

He initially tried to punch a wall but found the workmen hadn't finished repairing that particular bit yet and his fist went straight through the plasterboard. Cursing, he sank to the floor and sat there, nursing his scotch, until Simon came by looking a little haunted from his first talk with a wandering soul under his care. He glanced at Gene an did a double take as he saw his expression.

"Blimey! Who died?" he cried.

"Everyone," Gene mumbled.

Simon gave a short sigh.

"Fair enough," he said.

"Where's the new boy?" Gene asked.

"Swearing at Poirot and promising to sue us for every penny we have for what we've done to his office," said Simon.

"Sounds rather reminiscent of a DCI not far from where I'm standing," Gene commented.

Simon snorted a little. It still hurt to think about his first arrival in Gene's world.

"Don't sit here too long, you'll give yourself a chill," he said, sounding like someone's mother and headed into CID. Gene turned back to his glass and took a long drink from the potent liquid within. If he looked closely enough he swore he could see Alex dancing in the whiskey. A moment later he was surprised to see Simon duck back out of CID looking confused and concerned.

"Uh, Gene," he began, "Alex is crying."

A horrible pang of guilt settled upon Gene's heart.

"Is she?" he said quietly.

Simon hesitated.

"You don't know anything about it," he asked, "do you?

Gene drank the last mouthful of scotch and took a deep breath.

"We're over," he said quietly.

Simon felt as though someone had just told him the moon was made of poop.

"What?"

"Me and Alex," said Gene, "it's over."

"It can't be over."

"It is."

Simon frowned. He looked around.

"But I was only gone five minutes!" he cried, "you've been together ten years! You can't undo that in five minutes!"

"It was a long time coming," lied Gene.

"No it wasn't," frowned Simon, "what the hell happened?" he waited for a response but none came. "Gene?" He paused again. "Alex said… you were being cold towards her, after she disappeared."

Gene exhaled loudly.

"She did, did she?" he said quietly.

"Is that what this is about?" Simon asked.

Gene finally met Simon's gaze. He stared at him in silence for several moments, then finally he licked his dry lips and took a deep breath.

"You know I gave up smoking a few years ago?" he said.

Simon hesitated.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I just stopped. Went cold turkey. Never lapsed. Never had a problem." Gene paused and stared into the distance. "Today, I thought I was going to have to go cold turkey on Alex."

Simon felt his heart starting to sink. He could see where this was going.

"Oh, god," he sighed, sinking to the floor next to Gene.

"I watched her fading in and out," Gene continued, "It was 'orrible. Never seen anything like it. You never did that! No one's ever done that before. Then I thought I'd lost her."

"But she's still here," Simon reminded him.

"For now," said Gene, "she'll be gone again in a couple of weeks. And I'll have to watch her going through all that… fading malarkey bollocks too." He rubbed his head. "She can't even do the decent thing and make a quick exit, has to string it out to make it worse!"

Simon frowned.

"Gene, have you ever considered that the reason she faded in and out instead of ust disappearing was because she was fighting to stay? For you?"

Gene glanced at Simon but looked away again.

"It's to do with the medication," he mumbled.

"No it isn't," Simon was sure of that, "it's cause she's the only one who hasn't really wanted to go home. I wanted to get back to Robin. Then when Robin was here, we both wanted to get home to our own time, together. Kim's desperate to get out of here. All the other people who have been lucky enough to get home were anxious to make it. But Alex?"

Gene tried to take a sip of scotch but remembered he'd already finished it just as the tiniest drip fell onto his tongue.

"Alex has got Molly," he grunted.

"On one side, yeah - and on the other side there's you," Simon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "The decision's not that easy for her."

"Blood comes first."

"Alex wasn't so sure about that," Simon said. He noticed Gene's eyes flickered to him for just a moment. "She's spent fifteen years with you, Gene. Fifteen years! Yes, her daughter means the world to her but she hasn't seen her in a decade and a half. She's been with you every single day of that time. Yes, if this was an everyday situation her daughter would come first, but it's not. And she loves you."

"She thinks I don't want commitment," Gene said crossly, "She thinks I don't want to spend my life with her. She's got no idea."

"Well what do you want?"

"I want it too much!" Gene snapped.

"I don't understand."

"I promised myself a long time ago that, no matter what, I would not stand in the way of Bolly and her girl," Gene said crossly, "I told myself again and again that I would never ask her to stay. Wouldn't be fair. For ten years I've wished she would make that choice but I can't say anything that will influence that, one way or the other. It's got to be her choice." he shook his head. "She won't make the choice I want. And I can't sit around, waiting for the day I have to go cold turkey from Alex again. So I'm weaning meself off slowly."

"By dumping her?"

"It was mutual agreement," Gene mumbled.

Simon stared at Gene, aghast.

"Gene," he began hardly able to string his words together, "last night I put a ring on Robin's finger, and an hour later he vanished from in front of my eyes. I'm never going to see him again. We're on separate sides of life and death. Hours ago, Malcolm watched the woman he loved die in front of him. Kim's got a partner at home that she'd give anything to see. And you? The one person you want to be with is standing in there, crying her eyes out, and you're out here moping into an empty bloody glass! For fuck's sake, Alex is still here! she might be here for weeks or months, or even longer. And you've got the chance to make the most of those weeks, those months or whatever." he shook his head and looked at Gene crossly. "Don't waste it. That's all I'm going to say. Don't waste that precious time you've got left with her. Because when they try to bring her round again and she disappears from your life you're going to really regret it if you do."

Gene found himself staring at Simon. Was this really the same man who'd been sobbing over his iPhone when they first met? Gene almost laughed to think of how much had changed. He hesitated as his mind went over what Simon had said. It felt as though he was silent for a very long time as he thought about the day, Alex's gradual disappearance, their fight and Simon's advice. Eventually he looked at Simon again.

"What's the time, Shoebury?"

Simon looked at him, a little horrified.

"Eleven forty eight," he cried, "like always!"

Gene sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. Almost five. If they hurried he could just about make it. Hopefully it was late-night shopping that day.

"Right," he got to his feet, "Shoebury, yer needed. Go and wait in the car."

"What? Why?" he cried.

"Need yer expertise," said Gene.

"What about Peter?" frowned Simon, "the new guy?"

"He'll still be jabbering when we get back," he said, "get down to the car park and wait in the Fiat." he marched back into CID where he found Alex sitting quietly in the corner, wiping her eyes.

"Drake," he barked, "your place. Tonight. Eight o clock." He paused, wondering how many whiskeys he was going to need first. "Actually, make it nine. And cancel packing the packing up of me toothbrush."

Without giving her a chance to respond Gene turned around and marched out of CID leaving a confused and somewhat annoyed Alex in his wake.

She raced to the door and peered out but Gene had scampered too quickly to challenge. She was left confused, angry and emotional, completely bewildered by Gene's behaviour since arriving back at CID. Now he was expecting to come round that night? And for what? Her head hurt even trying to think about it.

She knew one thing - whatever he was intending to do that night, it would have to be pretty bloody spectacular if he wished to avoid a night in the back of his car.