A/N: Thanks for reading so far! Guess who's back in this chapter (well, it's probably not that hard to guess...)?
Chapter 3
Summers quickly left her alone, though she couldn't help feeling he had only moved to the sidelines, watching and waiting to see which choice she would make, as though his life depended on it too.
She was in her hospital room, limbs rigid and harsh light above her head. The only part of her that she could move were her eyes and she blinked them open to see Molly sitting at the end of her bed.
A rush of pure love filled her – not enough to activate her body, but her heart was bursting. She had missed her daughter so much, had almost lost hope of ever being with her again, conscious. If only she could reach out and touch her, but she mustn't run before she could walk. She had the feeling that she would need to aim for crawling first.
Molls - she said in her mind, having the inability to speak - come closer. Don't be scared, it's me. I'm alright. So much better for seeing you.
Molly smiled at her and it was the most wonderful sight she had seen in her life. Her gaze dropped, and she wondered what it was that was occupying her daughter's attention. Molly held the single flower up in her hand, clutching onto it by its stem.
A rose.
The fingers of her other hand smoothed over the crimson petals, careful and delicate until she began to pull at them with some force. Alex felt the blows as if they were landing upon her chest.
"Mum loves me," she uttered as one petal was discarded, "Mum loves me not." Another went fluttering down.
Her whole body bucked with fear, finding it unbearable to listen to the same four words that her little girl repeated, over and over.
Molls, please, don't do this. You know that I love you, more than anything.
Only one petal remained clinging on, the rest scattered upon the bed, covering Alex's feet.
"Why won't you wake up, properly?" Molly's voice questioned her, sorrow and anger mixing together. "Why won't you come back, if you love me?"
Oh, Molls, I'm trying. I really am. It's not that easy...
Her face transformed into a scowl, making Alex's heart throb with agony. Instead of pulling off the final petal – she was certain that the last one had been a 'not' – Molly's hand moved down towards the flower's stem.
Molls, be careful. The thorns...
She ignored the silent plea, pressing her fingers against the sharp points, blood beginning to trickle down upon the white sheets and the fallen petals.
A nurse entered the room and Alex hoped she would take notice, wrestle the desiccated flower from her daughter's grasp.
Please, Molls, stop hurting yourself.
"What's wrong, Molly?" the nurse asked, placing her hands on Molly's shoulders, the touch given so freely making Alex envious.
"My mum doesn't love me anymore."
A tear rolled down from Alex's eye, running a path down her cheek.
"Oh, Molly, I'm sure that's not true."
It isn't. I love you so much, so very much.
Molly shook her head, throwing the stem to the floor and curling up her hands into fists, hiding the scars that had already healed over.
"She loves someone else now, and that's why she's staying..."
Her daughter's voice faded into the distance, the room went black and then blindingly white, causing her to screw her eyes shut to block out the pain.
"Bolly! Wake up, you daft tart."
She blinked her eyes open for the second time, in a different room but still in hospital as far as she was aware and still unable to move.
"Good, yer doin' as yer told for once. Thought I was gunna 'ave to slap you awake for a moment there."
Gene? What are you doing here?
God, she was confused. She expected her head to start pounding, as it was prone to do, but the pain had been transferred lower down her body.
"Look, they're gunna say that it was my fault. That I shot you on purpose."
Shot her? What the hell had happened...
Without knowing precisely how, she registered the puckered wound in her abdomen. Her eyes blinked towards him, disbelieving.
"It wasn't like that, Bols. You know I wouldn't..."
He wore a shamed expression, bobbing his head to avoid her watery gaze. In one hand he held a bunch of flowers, clutching onto them awkwardly, as if he didn't know quite what to do.
"You were goin' to walk out, and I couldn't let yer do it. I panicked. At least I knew that you'd be alright 'ere, that the docs would look after yer until you're strong enough to come back. Don't get too comfortable, mind."
The flowers rustled in their wrapping as he thrust them forward into her eye line.
"I dunno if these are the kind you like, but I thought you might want somethin' to look at other than their ugly mugs. Especially Ray's."
He took one out of the bunch, a gloved hand closing around the smooth stem.
"I'm not doin' that poncey game. I know that yer love me."
Her heart contracted to hear him say the word that held such weight.
Gene. You have to understand. I can't stay forever.
"I can't do this without yer, Alex. You've got to stay where you're needed. I need you."
She wanted to tear her eyes away from him, standing faithfully by her bedside, but she couldn't.
Please, Gene. Don't make this harder than it already is.
"And...Jesus, Alex, you know I'm crap at this." He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair before he brought it down to brush against hers. She felt a jolt of energy running through her, as if she had been shocked with electricity. His voice was barely louder than a faint whisper. "But you know I do too."
She looked up at him, her eyes catching with his for a moment that both hurt and healed.
He put the flowers down on her bed, began to move away from her.
"I'll go and find a nurse, get some water for those. See if she can get me a cuppa while she's at it."
Gene, she called to him, another silent scream. I'm sorry.
He turned back, taking slow strides until he was standing over her.
"Take care, Bollykecks. I know you won't let me down."
He stared down at her, lowering his head until his lips made contact with her forehead.
She woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and feeling her heart pounding heavily against her chest. After a few moments held in the grip of fear – convinced that Summers was going to step out of the shadows – she turned her head towards the clock, seeing that it was just a little after 1am.
Groaning with frustration she dragged herself from beneath the covers, knowing that it wasn't likely that she'd go back to sleep any time soon. She needed something to make her feel drowsy – to numb the relentless pain. Her first instinct was to head to the fridge, pour some milk into a saucepan. Hot milk always did the trick when Molly was having a sleepless night, suffering from one of the nightmares she was prone to when she was a few years younger.
There was no milk there however, and she sighed as she stumbled across the kitchen, pulling open the cupboard to find the half-full bottle of whisky which was a reliable occupant, aside from the few assorted cans and packet of Cornflakes. She poured herself a measure, only one person on her mind as she let the warm liquid sink down. Screwing her eyes shut was the only way to stop the tears that had already started whilst she hadn't been fully aware.
It was useless. Whatever way she took from here, she was always going to be incomplete.
With a heavy heart and another swig of alcohol she supposed she had better get used to the feeling.
Alex stood in front of the whiteboard, staring aimlessly at the array of pictures that were pinned upon it. Johnston had more connections than she'd first realised and finding out who was at the heart of this operation was like pulling needles from the proverbial haystack.
Neither did it help that she'd only had snatches of sleep over the last couple of nights, not sure how much longer she could survive on black coffee. Her hand was trembling as she reached up to write something on the board and she sighed once she was done, her writing barely legible. Her head felt so heavy, she felt like she could slump down on the spot at any second.
"Bit of an issue, Ma'am," Viv approached her ruefully, "Johnston's getting himself into a state, banging on the door and asking when he can get out."
"When he starts giving some useful answers to our questions, that's when!" She pinched the bridge of her nose, shook some of the haziness out of her head. "Sorry, Viv. It's not your fault. Could you keep him sweet a little while longer?"
"I'll see what I can do, Ma'am."
She nodded appreciatively, leaning back against her desk and returning to the pointless task in hand.
Come on, Alex. Most of the pieces are there in front of you. You just have to fit them together.
Shaz arrived at her side, mug in hand. "Are you sure another coffee's a good idea?"
"Not particularly," Alex replied, "but I don't think it'll hurt that much either."
She took the fresh mug from Shaz, smiling weakly as she took a sip. Throwing herself into this current case was what she needed to do, but now she couldn't help but wonder whether there was more to it than met the eye. Everything was leading her back to the same point, her mind locked in that encounter. He was waiting around every corner, a rose in hand and a sickening smile upon his face.
"Shaz? Can I ask you a favour?"
She kept her voice low, the younger woman looking at her eagerly. Alex wondered whether it was the right thing to get her involved, but she told herself that her peace of mind would benefit everyone in the long run.
"Will you find out everything you can about a man called Martin Summers?"
"He a suspect, Ma'am?" She nudged her head towards the whiteboard.
"Erm, not exactly, no."
"A witness?"
"Er, not really," she began to falter, reading the uncertainty in Shaz's eyes. "I'm sorry to be vague, but it could be something really important to me."
The younger woman let out a little laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "A matter of life or death?"
"Yeah. Possibly."
Shaz quickly turned serious again. "Blimey. Um, is there anything else to go on?"
"He's a retired cop. About mid-fifties?"
"I'll see what I can find out."
"Thanks, Shaz."
She felt some of the pressure lift, even if the majority was still pressing down upon her. Placing her hands in her back pockets she stood on her heels again, keen to get some new perspective. Whatever plan Summers has got in mind, he's not going to win.
"Right, Johnston is being what we would all refer to as 'a pain in the arse', so it seems like we need to go further afield." She directed CID's attention to the rogues gallery that was laid out before them. "I've started profiles on three of them, but I'm afraid it's going to have to be all hands on deck if we want to even think about getting out of here before the weekend."
"This is a load of bollocks," Ray exclaimed, arms folded against his chest. "I didn't join the force to play a large-scale game of Guess Who. Has he got glasses? No. Is he a scummy bastard? Yes. Problem solved. Now let's go and kick their heads in."
Alex sighed, leaning both hands on her desk.
"Oh yes, a full-on brawl and injured egos on both sides. That's exactly what we want. Look Ray, I know we're not used to singing from the same hymn sheet, but I am really trying here so it would be nice to have a bit of support."
DS Carling shook his head vehemently. "I didn't join up to be ordered around by a bird, neither. If I wanted that I would 'ave stayed at home with me mam and listened to her batty ramblings all day and night."
"Maybe you should have done just that," Shaz decided to step in, offering her support to Alex, "then we might have a DS who could actually do their job properly instead of sitting on their arse for most of the day, picking their nose."
"And you can keep your trap shut an' all," Ray shot back, "why don't you two go off and schedule your periods, it'd be of more use than all of this crap."
"That is so typical of you. Go and drag your knuckles back to your cave, you troglodyte."
"Better being a...one of those than a dippy cow."
"Eh, don't speak to my fiancée like that!" Chris leapt out of his seat, ready to defend Shaz's honour.
Ray stifled a laugh. "Fiancée? Poof. Give it a rest."
Never mind the suspects; a mass fight was on the brink of breaking out in Fenchurch East CID, paper missiles being hurled into the air and both Ray and Chris rolling up their sleeves in preparation.
"The pair of you, stop it," Alex pleaded, her voice being lost amidst the braying jeers of the rest of the team. "My god, maybe the decision isn't so hard after all..."
The banging of the doors didn't put a stop to proceedings but the familiar bellow certainly did.
"Well, what a pleasant 'welcome home' this is," Gene glanced around at the scene before him, clearly displeased. "I've got a mind to stick you all in the cells, just so I can get a bit of soddin' peace!"
Across the room that had fallen silent his eyes sought her out and she could see him soften for a moment, equilibrium being gradually restored.
"Guv," Chris stepped back, adjusting his shirtsleeves into place again, "good to 'ave you back."
A chorus of murmured 'Guv''s went round, all of the men standing from their seats as Gene strode through the room.
"Cup of tea, Guv?" Shaz offered with a smile.
"I won't say no," Gene replied, " 'aven't had a decent one all week. Five sugars, Shaz, ta muchly."
As Shaz bounced towards the kitchenette he turned around, gracing Alex with the view of his broad shoulders, strong back and very fine arse in dark-grey trousers.
"Am I right in thinkin' you're the cause of this ruckus, Raymondo? And we know I'm 'ardly ever wrong, so no point in wormin' your way out of it, there's a good DS."
Ray frowned, arms folded tight to his chest again. "I've done nothin', Guv. And that's exactly the point." He turned his disgruntled gaze in Alex's direction. "We'd 'ave had this case nailed days ago if she..."
"She?" Gene cut his DS off abruptly. "Who's that, the cat's mother? DI Drake is your superior officer and you will give her the respect she is owed, whether that is followin' her orders to the letter or by givin' her her correct title."
Ray dropped his head like a little boy admonished, and Alex had to try hard to stop herself from bursting into a fit of laughter, half-delirious.
"Sorry, Guv."
"I don't think it's me you need to apologise to."
DS Carling raised his gaze from the floor reluctantly, though he didn't quite deign to look her in the eyes.
"Sorry, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Ray," she answered, lacing her voice with sugary sweetness, knowing that it would rub Carling the wrong way.
"Right, now we're all friends again, you lot can get yer heads down and do some bloody work!"
Another round of 'yes, Guv''s went round as Gene headed without a glance over his shoulder for his office, the scent of his aftershave trailing behind him. Alex was rather deflated that he hadn't paid more attention to her, but she supposed they could always debrief later on.
She was just about to sit back down at her desk and resume working on the half-finished profile when her train of thought was interrupted by a bark from behind her.
"Lady Bols, a moment of your time."
She felt lighter as she turned, a smile sparking on her face as she headed behind the door.
"Blinds?" she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Your call, love."
She promptly shuttered the blinds and then barrelled herself into Gene's arms, feeling him stumble back as she nestled her head against his chest, letting out a happy and relieved sigh.
"Steady on, Bolly," he exclaimed, the stuffing knocked out of him somewhat. His arms circled around her all the same, hands rubbing against her back. "I was only on the M1, not in a rocket from the bloody moon."
She recovered herself, pulling back from him. To feel him against her, his warmth radiating through to her body, had been a tonic that she had so sorely needed.
"I know, I know. I just missed you."
His perplexed expression shifted into a smile, rare for everyone else to see but not for her, at least not in these past few months.
"Same 'ere. Yer a sight for very sore eyes, Bols." His eyes dipped up and down, checking her over thoroughly. One of his hands came around, cupping her cheek. "Look a bit peaky though."
"Pressures of being an acting DCI," she smirked, hoping she could put his mind at ease. "That, and I haven't been getting a lot of sleep."
A cheeky glint lit up his eyes. "Thought you'd be catchin' up on it, love, seein' as I wasn't there to keep yer otherwise occupied."
She smiled, unable to resist his charm. "Seems that I need you around for that as well."
Her hands landed back upon him, shifting up from his chest to stroke the warm skin at the back of his neck. He sighed at the ministrations of her fingers, shifting his feet where he stood. She didn't need to press herself into him to know the way in which he was reacting to her presence, and she felt gratified in the power of her feminine wiles, if she wasn't exactly sure of her other abilities at this moment in time.
With some reluctance he pulled her arms from where they were draped around his neck, stepping back slightly. Though she felt a touch disappointed she decided it probably was for the best, before they got too carried away.
"How was it, then?" she ventured, keen to know what he had been up to. "Any details you can share with me, or is it all classified and top-secret?"
He pouted, large frame slumping against his desk.
"It was a pile of steamin' shite, Bols. There was no bleedin' big case. No small one, either. They'd rounded us up on false pretences." The disappointment on his face was clear, and she could only imagine at the mood he would have been in all week. "Six solid days of bastard team-buildin' exercises. The Commissioner wants us to present a 'united front', apparently."
He let out a stutter of a laugh, shaking his head fiercely.
"Like that's gunna 'appen in the present climate. I tell yer, Bolly, there were many occasions when I felt like tellin' im exactly where he could shove his team-buildin'. I've got a perfectly good team of my own, I don't need to be pally with a bunch of Brummies and Scousers."
She smiled at his grimace. "I don't know, with the way things are here at the moment we could probably learn a thing or two. I draw the line at trust falls, though."
For a brief moment she pictured them both somewhere else, a lock-up garage with darkness surrounding them, her legs feeling weak as he reached out towards her, lifting the t-shirt she wore to expose her stomach.
"I'm sorry. Could 'ave hit my target, but you fell all wrong."
"Sometimes in life you can't help which way you fall."
"Waste of bloody time is what it was. And they didn't even have a free bar! What kind of copper get-together is that?"
To compensate he opened one of the drawers of his desk, plucking out a bottle of whisky and taking a swig.
"You don't think..." she began, watching him as he made short work of the bottle's contents.
"What?" He stared at her hard, then quickly relaxed. "Sorry, Bols, should 'ave offered you some first."
She waved her hand in dismissal. "What we were talking about before you went. It could have been an exercise in promotion. It's quite common in...well, where I come from."
"You mean boarding school and all that posh-knob bollocks? I've never been into willy-waving, Bolly. Just as well, for the rest of them."
"Alright," she raised her eyes to the ceiling, "you don't need to tell me."
He smirked, straightening up and fixing the lid back onto the bottle that was, for all intents and purposes, drained dry.
"I've told yer, Bols, I'm not interested. They want Superintendent Gene Hunt, they'll 'ave a long bloody wait. I've got bigger fish to fry in this hornet's nest."
She smiled. He did love to mix his metaphors.
"So, what 'ave I missed, then? Aside from Ray being a big girl's blouse."
"Oh, just this case. And the fact that I'd get better results by banging my head against a brick wall."
She sighed, raising her hands to her temples again. A small voice was telling her that she should tell him about Summers – that it was the right thing to do – but if she was honest she just wanted to forget, at least for the time being.
If anyone could make her forget about the torture that Summers was objecting her to, then it was Gene.
"Fill me in, then."
She went through everything, about Johnston and his endless strings of 'no comment', the fact that he was linked with at least three different gangs as far as they knew, making it nigh on impossible to narrow the search down. By the time she was finished she was even more exhausted than when she had begun.
"So," Gene concluded, " 'e's a slippery little scrote, is the long and short of it."
"I suppose it is."
He rested both hands upon her shoulders, causing her to raise her eyes to look into his.
"Don't worry, Bols, he'll crack in the end," he said, full of the confidence that she was lacking. "They always do. And if 'e doesn't then put me in a room with 'im for five minutes, and he'll soon be beggin' for mercy and his balls to stay attached to his body."
She managed a smile as he clapped her gently.
"You just keep on at 'im with the psychology lark, and I'll get this shower into gear."
He flashed her a grin before heading for the door, leaving her temporarily stunned.
"Gene?" she uttered as his cobalt gaze looked back at her.
"Yes, Bols?"
She wavered for a moment, trying not to think of how desperately she would miss him.
"That's exactly what it is."
He shrugged, one hand planted in his pocket. "I know, Bolly. I do sometimes pay attention when yer rabbitin' on."
They did make some progress with Johnston that day, largely down to Gene's methods of persuasion – even if she noticed that they were more restrained than usual, and wondered whether it was for her benefit.
"So much for the psychology lark," she murmured, leaning her elbow heavily on the table and taking a slow slug from her glass.
He shot a look that told her he would have no moping or undermining of her abilities.
"I wouldn't worry, Bols. Not down to you that Johnston's too much of a thicko to respond."
She blinked up at him, the smile fitting easier on her face than it had done over the last week.
When she first got here she was so driven by the need to change everything, failing to understand the whole 'act first, think later' approach. She'd since learned that everything was not so black and white and cringed to think how arrogant she must have seemed, harping on about her time at Langley and unconsciously trying to make herself seem superior. It had been a survival technique, proving to herself that she wouldn't become lost. Now she realised that there was a place for everything – in moderation, of course - and just as he was working on toning things down she would try hard to do the same.
Their differences were narrowing as the days went by, when once it seemed to be all that they were to each other. She viewed them now as complimentary elements, rather than ones which were designed to repel. Yin and yang. Looking over the small surface standing between them she decided that the topic of ancient Chinese philosophy wasn't one worth pursuing tonight.
"Y'know...I've been thinkin'." Alex watched his fingers and his lips as he took a final drag on the cigarillo he was smoking, at war with herself for finding the act so attractive when he employed it. "This Operation Rose. Maybe Mac was onto somethin'. Workin' it from the inside."
She went cold all over, clutching onto the stem of her glass so tightly that it could well have shattered against her palm. The image of Molly from her most recent dream came back into her mind, thorns prickling at her perfect skin.
"I don't know," was her feeble reply, "we don't know what mental state he was in. You said it yourself, he died a bitter man. Maybe it was all a ruse, designed to lead us the wrong way."
The more assured she sounded, the better she could do at convincing him – and herself.
The weight of it lay heavy upon his shoulders as he contemplated the glass that was out of reach by mere inches.
"Strikes me that the timin' is all a bit convenient though, Bols. The higher powers don't give a toss about us, won't put their 'ands into their very deep pockets to organise a division piss-up every Christmas, and then all of a sudden they want us all to be best buddies?" He shook his head, nudging at the ashtray with his fingers. "Somethin' is very off."
"You think it's wider than the Met?"
"No doubt about it," he answered her, his voice low against the usual after-hours hubbub. "Bad bastards 'ave a habit of getting everywhere, gettin' other bastards on side to do their dirty work for them. Doesn't take much for an infection to spread, until there's nothin' that can be done to cure it."
She couldn't quite make out the voices coming through the radio wavelength, but she knew they were talking about her and her chances of survival.
"Mac wasn't soft, 'e had a lot goin' on." He raised one hand to his head, clenched the other into a ball upon the table-top. "I swear to God, if 'e's tainted my department with the corrupt bullshit 'e was up to his neck in..."
The air around them was toxic as she breathed it in, Gene's agitation amplifying her own. She wished that she had never had to assign such meaning to the two words and hoped – perhaps against all reasonable hope – that it was not, in fact, her route back to the world she had known.
Whatever part Summers had to play in the whole sorry affair, she would forget about him. For tonight, at least.
"Enough about work," she uttered softly but imploringly, her hand covering his fist on the table, easing it out of its rigid position. Her fingers were like waves of gentle water as they moved over his, out of sight of the rest of the team and any eyes other than their own, which was what would put him at ease.
That, and the persistent caress of her touch, aiming to transport him into another existence if only for a short while.
The radio had changed its station to something mellow, fitting the atmosphere she was hoping to create, and with the briefest glance to the next table she smiled as she knew exactly who the culprit was.
"Not callin' it a night, are we, Bolly?" His eyes looking into hers made the feelings she had been bottling up for her own sake surge and break free, a tsunami cleansing all of her senses. "That bottle's barely been touched."
She gave him a smile as she stood, relinquishing her grip on his hand in order to seize said bottle. "I don't intend to waste it. That's why I'm bringing you both upstairs."
His lips quirked in the next moment, so obvious that she knew that her eyes weren't deceiving her.
"What the lady wants, the lady shall 'ave. Not that I've got much say in the matter."
She laughed at his apparent grousing and paid little attention to the looks that followed them as they departed the trattoria. She didn't care what they had to say, gossiping about the two of them. They were off the clock, and the precious hours until the next sunrise were theirs and their alone – and God knows she had been counting down to these ones.
He made himself at home on the sofa – and thankfully not the armchair. Already she was going back on her promise to put the spectre out of her mind. She turned herself towards Gene, filling their glasses evenly and they got through the rest of the wine easily. He looked behind her in the direction of the kitchen once the bottle was finished but she didn't budge. She wanted to keep as clear a head as possible, didn't want to be so drunk that it became nothing more than a hazy memory in the morning.
His eyes went back to her, dropping briefly to the gaping at the front of her blouse. Such blatant attention was exactly what she craved.
"So, you missed me then, Bols?"
His hand was dangerously close to brushing against her thigh; she could feel the nerves in her skin prickling with anticipation.
"Very much so," she breathed, a hand threading into her hair, her own fingers teasing at the nape of her neck even though she wished that they were his instead, "I really don't know how I got by."
"S'only natural." His gaze was like a caress as it worked its way up to the curve of her collarbone. Infuriatingly, he still wasn't touching her. "I imagine yer must have enjoyed the power though. Gettin' to call the shots for a bit."
Her patience, which wasn't at the optimum to begin with, was wearing away to nothing. She leaned into his ear, placed a hand upon his chest.
"You know exactly how I missed you."
The tip of her tongue darted from between her lips to tease at his lobe, and she felt the muscles in his jaw contracting.
"Would 'ave thought you'd be a bit more subtle about it though, Bolly."
"There's a time and a place, Gene."
She smiled against his skin, inhaling the musk of his scent as she dotted kisses over his jawline.
"I bought something while you were away. I think...I hope you'll enjoy it."
Just as he was about to put his hands upon her she ducked out of his reach, getting to her feet and leaving him sitting there. His frustration was signalled by a low growl in his throat and she suppressed a giggle.
"Won't be long," she trilled as she moved towards the bedroom, "don't get too comfortable."
"Not much chance of that, Bols."
She had to tell herself to slow down as she got out of the clothes she had been in all day. It was always worth it to wait just a little bit longer. For a few short moments she was naked apart from the eager smile she wore, and then the satin caressed and moulded itself to her curves, hugging her like a second skin. A few additional accompaniments and she was good to go. She debated cloaking herself in a robe for the extra element of surprise but decided against it, echoing her own words. A time and a place.
"Close your eyes," she uttered to him, taking elegant strides back into the front room.
"Bugger off."
"Have it your way, then."
She stood in front of where he was perched on the sofa, hands on her hips and her chest thrust forward, though she hardly needed to make it any more obvious.
"Jesus...Christ...Alex."
The hungry look in his eyes set her alight; made it entirely worth squeezing herself into the basque and the ridiculously skimpy knickers, the stockings, suspenders and stilettos, the whole caboodle.
"I'm going to take that as approval."
He stopped his mouth from hanging agape, swallowed as he raked his eyes over her, a few times for good measure.
"I dunno where you came from, Bols, but it's downright filthy. And I very much 'ope I can go there one day."
"Well, I'm here now."
She kept her gaze fixed with his, teasing and entrancing with mere eye contact. As charged as it was, it only brought satisfaction for a minute or so.
"You'll get a better view up close."
He rose out of his seat, her insides fizzing with anticipation as he stalked towards her. Her eyes dipped down, following the path of his fingers as he swept them over the curve of a breast, feeling the cool silkiness that was made warm by her body, working them down her side to where hip gave way to thigh. She let her breath catch for a moment before she recovered herself, keen not to surrender so soon.
She moved herself further in towards him, feeling his warm breath tickle her as he huffed.
"Did you think about me?" she asked, perfecting the illusion of innocence.
"Every bloody moment."
Both of his hands gripped at her hips, pulling her almost flush against him.
"I thought about you, too."
When wasn't there a time when he wasn't on her mind, affecting all of her reactions?
She felt his hardness prodding insistently at her hip and almost moaned at the sensation.
"And did you...take care of yourself?"
He failed to suppress a groan, his hands moving upwards again, treating himself to what had been denied.
"It was a miracle that I could stay put for more than five minutes."
She smiled at his answer, shedding him of his jacket and tracing her hands over his shoulders, weaving one into his thick mane of hair.
"I know that I had trouble," she murmured, massaging her fingers against his scalp, "but I managed on my own. I've learnt a few things from the best."
It was naughty of her but she couldn't stop her other hand from wandering down her body, reaching to the waistband of her knickers.
He stilled the curses falling from his lips watching her, his hand stopping hers after a moment or two, to their mutual delight.
"Well I'm back now," he uttered firmly, tenderness not completely hidden beneath his rough tone, "so you don't 'ave to manage any longer."
Her eyelids fluttered as her lips smiled, her hand clinging onto his neck, increasing their contact.
"Although if this is the kind of thing I can expect, I should go away more often."
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," she murmured, caressing his skin with the strokes of her fingertips, over and over.
"Dunno about me heart, but somethin' else is definitely growin'."
She giggled softly, rolling her hips against his and almost purred with the friction that was caused.
"You know, I didn't enjoy being in charge," she confessed, her hand slipping to grip onto his strong shoulder, "because you'll always be the Guv, and that's the way it should be. You'll always be my Guv."
Whatever happens.
She expected more fervent approval from him to her utterance but was better pleased by the way he chose, growling against her skin as he kissed and nipped at her neck, increasing in enthusiasm while his hands worked at the clasps that held up the skin-tight basque. In little to no time he was successful, his lips trailing a perfect path, causing her to become quickly lost and muttering his name both in desperate pleas and to convey her escalating pleasure.
After she uttered it for what seemed like the thousandth time that night, she paired it with two other words, clinging onto him in desperation and desire.
"Take me..."
She woke in the dead of night, peacefully and not wrenched headlong out of horrific dreams. Dreams that forced her to choose between the two people that meant the most to her. Of course, that was the fact of her reality and she hadn't needed any stranger sending her roses and leaving her sinister messages to affirm that. There was barely any respite between the sobering realisation, becoming clearer to her again after she had forgotten – so blissful in her ignorance as the hours and he wrapped her up – and the tightening of her stomach, reminding her with physical pain that she could not live this way forever, trapped by time and torn in two.
She waited for the stabbing in her gut to stop before she rolled onto her side, taking the presence of him in as he lay next to her, behind her. He'd got into the habit of spooning her after they made love – once or twice, or on the occasion when excess adrenaline had fuelled them both more than that – and though he'd complain about it when she brought it up she knew that it was something instinctive. He could deny it all he wanted, the fact remained true. He was always protecting her, watching out for her and righting her when she stumbled.
But he couldn't save her from everything. Nobody was there all of the time.
Her mind was made up, as it had been from the start, and she knew that he wouldn't blame her or berate her for it. If only he knew what a wrench it had become.
She wouldn't let herself think of the future, not for now. Her head was filled with the night had passed, every sigh and cry of ecstasy – mainly hers – echoing against her ears. It had been everything that she had craved and so much more, her very soul calling to him, to keep going, to never stop. His mouth on her and then all of him, inside her, their bodies fitting together as though it was always meant to be that way. She'd never felt such intensity; it was almost like the first time, so much anticipation. Heaven so near in reach with every touch and kiss. There was a lot to be said for being reunited.
God, the thought would not leave her alone, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.
She watched him sleeping, completely oblivious in the darkness and felt a certain serenity descend upon her, despite everything. They'd been here before, the night of the Police Ball when they'd absconded early from the celebrations. The night when she'd realised exactly how deep her feelings ran for him and could avoid them no longer.
He was so peaceful when he slept; nobody would have guessed at everything that lay beneath, all of the infuriating and wonderful complexities and contradictions. Sometimes it felt like nobody knew him, not really, and she was the only one that came close. No doubt he'd have something to say about that. You and your bleedin' psychiatry. She think she actually preferred it when he got it wrong.
Her fingers threw invisible shadows as they reached out, holding her breath so she didn't make a sound. She smiled weakly as her fingertips traced his eyelashes, bracing herself for him to wake up any second and ask her what the hell she was playing at. But he didn't, stayed on sleeping, chest rising and falling steadily and reliably.
Her throat was tight with tears that she refused to let fall, telling herself not to spoil this night, wherever it lay in the sequence.
I do love him, she admitted to herself once more. I love him. And when I have to leave him...oh God, it's going to be hell.
She lay herself back down slowly, turned herself away from him but back into his arms. The image of Molly came into her head; this time she held a bunch of tulips in her hands, the smile wide upon her face as she watched her mother eagerly.
"Mum," she exclaimed, the light around her brighter than any Alex had ever witnessed, "you're awake! I knew you'd wake up!"
She couldn't stop herself from smiling, Molly's joyful face in front of her and Gene's arms wrapped around her, trying to perfect her balancing act for as long as possible.
"I got these for you."
"They're beautiful. They're my favourites."
Molly giggled happily, moving from the end of the bed to the side of it instead.
"I missed you," she said, making Alex's heart ache, "did you miss me, Mum?"
"I did," she replied, "for every moment. Come here, let me hug you."
As she wrapped her weak arms around her daughter, she tried not to think too much about the arms that were letting her go.
"I'll miss you, Bols," his voice lingered in her ear, sitting beside Molly's giggles, "more than I think you'll ever know."
A/N: Alex, Alex...my heart aches for her. But at least Gene's here again... (I'm trying to keep this fic T-rated so the sexy times won't be as descriptive, but I can't exactly deprive them)