A/N: A largely canon compliant chapter, with a few Galex-y tweaks (and Summers being...Summers). Credit to Jack Lothian for the 2.6 dialogue.

Chapter 5

"Is it a biological necessity for women to change their minds every five minutes, or am I just unlucky with the women I meet?" The Manc Lion groused from his spot at the head of the table, his gaze directed firmly at her. "I say it's Riley, you suspect Donna. Turns out we're both right. I am agreein' with you. You should be doin' hula-hoops."

Alex picked up her glass, her hackles rising at his assertions of how she should be reacting. "Yes, and I am not agreeing with me anymore."

He frowned for a second before leaning heavily against the back of his chair, arms folding against his chest. "Well, that there is a woman."

"I hear you, Guv," Chris spoke to back up his superior, causing both Alex and Shaz to shoot him disapproving looks, the latter tutting loudly as well.

"Like you know anything about it."

Alex turned her gaze away from the bickering lovers, looking instead at the man who had become her own, though at this precise moment she was having trouble figuring out why it had ended up that way.

"You won't have to worry about it for much longer, not when I've gone away."

The words had slipped from her mouth without her being fully aware, except now she could feel several sets of eyes upon her, silently questioning.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Shaz saw fit to puncture.

"Away, Ma'am?"

"Yes," she answered simply, feeling guilty that it had come out like that. She had intended to give a little speech on another night, and not one when most of them were in foul moods. "It's something I've wanted and it's...erm...it's good. DCI Hunt is already aware."

She made a point of not looking at him to check his expression, surprised that he didn't see fit to make some tired comment along the lines of about bleedin' time. She must have really pissed him off over Riley and Donna.

The letters that were on her person came into her consciousness again, and despite it not being the best of times she didn't see the point in delaying. She was expecting to get some flack for them – namely from Gene himself – but God knows she had faced far worse than a bit of name-calling and shit-flinging. Let him do his worst. She was glad that she'd decided to leave the tape in the drawer of her desk, intending to give it to him when she was as certain as she could be that it really was the end.

"So, I've written you all something," she dished the envelopes out one by one across the table, leaving Gene's on the table-top when he failed to extend his hand, "Just, you know, just a little something. Just some observations, bit of advice. Just in case I don't get to say goodbye properly."

Her voice wavered slightly on the word goodbye, the enormity of it all sinking in. For better or worse this place had been her home for going on the best part of eighteen months; this rag-tag bunch of individuals had become friends rather than simply just colleagues. They had been all she had, beacons of hope while she had been desperately trying to make sense of everything.

One had burned brighter and more fiercely than the others.

"Oh, great," Ray snarled, his thumb ripping into one of the corners of his envelope, the tearing sound sharp upon the air.

"But only if I go," she cut in, not realising she had said if instead of when. "Please. It's important to me."

On her command each of the recipients stilled their trigger-happy fingers, depositing their respective envelopes in their jackets, trouser pockets or handbag. She smiled with a degree of serenity, the poignant feeling that had stabbed at her being replaced with something more soothing.

"Right, come on, you lot. Busy day tomorrow."

The team began to disperse at their Guv's orders, Viv collecting the drained glasses that lay upon the table, Ray leaving swiftly, Shaz putting on her coat and shrugging off a forlorn-looking Chris who quickly slinked away, his offer to help firmly rejected.

"Night, Ma'am," Shaz's voice was as bright as ever, no mean feat considering the evening that had passed.

She gave a genuine smile up from her seat. "Night, Shaz."

"And that applies to you an' all," Gene's voice shook her from her contemplation after a few moments, his figure looming over her holding her in suspension and having quite the opposite effect to the drive of his words, "don't want a repeat performance of you holdin' court with the floor again, not when there's serious business to be done."

Her lips curved to one side, the look on his face curiously unreadable. Sod it, she didn't have the inclination to even try.

"Oh, there won't be any trouble of that, Guv," she said, adding extra verve to her tone, "I've never felt better."

He pouted at her as she raised her glass up towards him, and then set his expression to stone. "Glad to 'ear it."

"So am I."

"Good."

They remained in the stale-mate for a couple of minutes longer, staring one another out. Alex felt reasonably smug that she had the upper hand. She knew that she was right about Donna and Riley, and the sooner he got over his sulking the better. Then she could focus on what really mattered.

He turned to leave without so much as a goodnight, the air feeling colder once he had disappeared. She hunched her shoulders up, sat straighter in her seat and watched the small, flickering flame of the candle in front of her sway to-and-fro.

The bullet was out. This is it – the beginning of the end. Or perhaps the end of something that had barely begun.

Whatever way, she would be going soon. Hours as opposed to days. Even if it was getting late she couldn't contemplate going to sleep, felt the need to be ready at a moment's notice. This is what I've been waiting for and I will be in control as far as is possible.

She became aware of Luigi hovering at her side and holding another bottle of wine.

"Bicerina, Signorina?"

Her vision became clearer as she looked towards his kind face, crisper than it had been before.

"Luigi, what do you think happens to the world when you're not in it any more?" She gave some serious thought to the question; it had played on her mind all the more over these last few weeks. "Do you think it all just carries on, or do you think everything disappears?"

He offered her a perplexed smile, thrusting the bottle forward in the absence of any answer.

She took it as she stood, tucking the seat underneath the table. "Hopefully I can let you know. I'm not exactly sure how, but I assume that there must be a way."

"Umm...si, Signorina. Sleep well."

She moved out and up the stairs, her feet carrying her as though they were gliding on air. Voices and images vibrant in her mind while she sat on the sofa, poring over files and breaking into the bottle that Luigi had so kindly given.

"Your mum's resting now, Molly. She's had a very big operation and won't wake up for a long while. We just have to wait now and see how she responds to the surgery."

She looked up to the television screen, the programme that had been playing as background noise switching to show her little girl standing by herself in a hospital corridor.

"Don't be worried," she addressed her daughter, watching keenly as her expression started to shift at the sound of her voice, "I'm coming back, I promise you. You have to believe me, Molls."

Molly smiled before the picture flickered and changed back to what it had been before. Alex felt comforted, the biggest hope she had since she'd got here planted in her heart. Her little girl was waiting for her and she would be back very soon; the promise would keep her going through whatever was waiting in store.

The dull banging upon the door was replaced by a crash and the thudding of heavy footsteps coming ever closer. As quickly as she was able she turned the light out, diving behind the sofa to take cover.

Another night of hardly any sleep; they were becoming the norm now. She'd tidied up the mess the best she could before leaving for work; the television was well and truly unsalvageable, which caused her more sorrow than it should have done but it didn't really matter. She didn't need a gateway to Molly, not when she would be back with her for real soon enough. Hopefully by the time she was back this evening the new door would be in place, complete with yet another change of locks.

The Guv hadn't been seen this morning; probably lying low and licking his wounds, or otherwise building up the courage to give her the two sacred words, apparently impossible for him to say: I'm sorry.

Her strides down the corridor were stopped abruptly as she came face to face with him, though he lowered his upon seeing her, turning sharply on the heels of his boots. Her heart and her stomach had sunk to the floor on the sight of him, dark bruising flowering around his right eye.

"Gene," she gasped, immediately dropping the facade she had planned to keep in place.

"Walked into a wall," he muttered as an unsatisfactory explanation, striding quicker towards the toilets.

"Guv!" Maybe he'd listen to her if she used the semi-professional term, maintained some semblance of distance between them. She knew only too well that the battering hadn't only come physically.

She hurried to catch up with him, her heels clicking against the floor.

"Guv," she repeated, the door swinging on its hinges behind her.

"What does the man on the door mean?" He flew round to face her, eyes blazing.

"Look, I..."

"The man on the door?"

"Men only," she murmured.

"When are you goin' to bloody well learn that? Sacred turf, Bolly."

She wasn't going to give in so easily. The state of his eye meant that whoever he'd had a run-in with was capable enough of taking on the formidable Gene Hunt; for all she knew they were the very same hooligans who smashed up her flat. She'd never seen him like this and it cut her deep; she could only begin to imagine how it must have affected him. One thing was for sure, he wouldn't be coping with it well.

The fact that they hadn't been on the most amiable of terms over the last couple of days made her feel all the more responsible.

"What happened?" she tried gently, knowing that he wasn't going to give her the answer she was after. After what had gone on in the past 48 hours she couldn't exactly blame him.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm clumsy. Two left feet."

Though she expected it, the fact he couldn't tell her the truth stung.

He moved to push his way into a cubicle; she stopped him with a hand against his arm.

"Please, Gene." She looked up at him with beseeching eyes. "They came to my flat."

A storm gathered in his gaze, he met her eyes with more insistence than the seconds previous.

"Did they lay a finger on you?"

She shook her head, a lump lodged in her throat. "No, I hid behind the sofa."

Lips pursed, he looked away from her, not before Alex could read relief as well as something akin to shame in his eyes. The need to atone bubbled up within her and given that time was running out, it was all the more important that she said her piece.

"Look, Gene, I..."

"No," he cut her off before she could even begin, "not now, okay? Not now."

As dumbfounded as she was she allowed him to bundle into a cubicle, slamming the door shut behind him. She leaned against the frame, the idea of leaving not entering her head for a second.

Okay, he's not going to respond to you on a personal level. Change of tack needed.

"We've called Donna in."

"I really do not want to talk to people."

She frowned at his response; is that who I am to him, lumped in with the rest? "What's that supposed to mean?"

A beat of silence, and then his voice was bouncing off the echoing walls. "Just stop yappin' on like some demented chihuahua!"

"Look, she is in the video with our main suspect." She inhaled a deep breath, hoping that none of the other members of CID would choose to waltz in. "You're not going to let a couple of thugs intimidate you, are you?"

Unable to take the provocation he burst out, nearly taking the unsuspecting door off its hinges. She trailed him eagerly as he stormed his way out of the gents and up to the front desk.

"Viv," he addressed their unassuming skipper, slamming both hands down on the desk, "I want you to stick me in the cells."

"Guv?" Viv questioned, caught off guard.

Alex watched on as he shot his eyes between Viv and her, both equally as perplexed as one another.

"That way I might get a bit of peace and quiet!"

She felt helpless to intervene as Viv complied with Gene's request, the thought of Donna Mitchell sitting a few rooms away playing around the outskirts of her mind while the best part of it was occupied by Gene's torment. She half-listened as Chris and Ray mused on what the matter could possibly be, Chris's suggestion that he might be having some kind of breakdown swiftly dismissed with colourful imagery by Ray.

"Well, he can't sit down there by himself all day," she announced, mainly for her own benefit. "I'm going to go and have a word."

"He said 'e wanted to be alone," Ray interjected, suddenly full of concern.

She didn't like to think about all the other times he'd been left alone to ruminate, before she had come along.

"What people say and what they need are two different things."

She went with some hesitation to the cell with the door half-open, finding him sitting there. He didn't even look up to address her before he spoke.

"Should 'ave known you never bloody do as you're told."

"My DCI has disappeared to brood like an overgrown child, so I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do in the circumstances."

She took a seat on the hard surface next to him, looking towards him as he pouted, doing a pretty good impression of how she'd described him. Inside, her stomach was turning over, her legs thankful for the fact that she was propped up.

"Gene," she ventured, keeping her voice soft, "you know, it's okay to be scared."

He turned his head towards her, a look flashing in his eyes that screamed I'm not bleedin' scared, though it faded quicker than she thought it would.

"They went after you, Bols," he responded after a moment or two of contemplation. "A woman. I mean, that's a line right there."

A tingling weaved its way up her spine at what he had said. Of course he had important principles; he wouldn't stand for any woman having to defend herself against men who saw fit to attack at mere will. Put together with the way he was staring intently at her she could tell that this particular incident had got to him more than usual. Not only because he had been the subject, but because she had been involved too.

She felt herself soften yet further, scooting nearer and closing the gap between them. So much was sitting upon her tongue, fighting to emerge. She had the urge to bring her hand up to the discolouration that decorated his eye, attempt to take away some of the pain that was locked tight inside of him.

"No, but we can't sink to Riley's level."

The thought crossed her mind, not for the first time, that this might not have anything to do with Riley.

He breathed out a heavy sigh. "You know, there's always been scum preyin' on decent, ordinary folk. But there was a code of honour as well. You came at him from the front, not like a coward from the back."

She felt his frustrations and his laments, even if she had been far from comfortable with all of his methods. For the first time she could see the true fear he had, of being rendered obsolete in a world that was moving too fast for him to keep up with.

"Everybody wants to be the centre of the universe these days. Writin' their own rules, doin' whatever they want."

Another sensation struck her in the pit of the stomach; she'd been so selfish, letting everything consume her. Even when they were supposed to be a unit, there she was, cheerily telling him of her imminent plans to be off, leaving him to deal with all of the fallout and his issues that were fast escalating beyond his grasp all alone. You've learnt enough by now, Guv.

"And what are you planning to do?"

A hint of a smirk gathered upon his face. "D'you know, a good beatin' clears the head, Bols. Our Mr Riley thinks 'e can run his little empire. Thinks 'e can bump off someone like Colin Mitchell without retribution."

Now she could see a certain familiar flame stoke in his eyes.

"Well, I'm workin' out exactly what sort of retribution is required."

"Will you promise me something, Guv?"

He looked towards her, the ire that he held simmering down.

"That we'll do this the right way?"

"Sometimes, Bolly, you 'ave to fight fire with fire."

That didn't exactly fill her with confidence.

With the air cleared – at least in some respects – she got to her feet, stopped from leaving by Gene's voice behind her.

"I'm stayin' with you from now on, no questions. That ex-husband of yours can knock the door down if 'e wants, I don't care."

She laughed lightly. "I should hope not, it's being fixed as we speak."

The hairs on the back of her neck raised, goosepimples prickling her skin as he stood in front of her, trailing his hands down her arms, stopping short of curling his fingers around hers.

"Should 'ave been there for you, Bols."

"I could say the same," she replied, still pondering what if.

"It's not your job to look after my ugly mug. But if I can't protect you..." He looked away from her briefly, Alex sensing his regret and shame, though it had been as much her fault for being just as stubborn. "Then I dunno what I'm good for."

Her inhibitions left her in an instant, the need that had been building within her finally fulfilled as she reached up decisively, cupping his face with both of her hands, the tips of her fingers stroking soothingly against his skin, warm to the touch.

"You are good for so many things, Gene," she said firmly, counteracting the tenderness of her touch, "and not just for locking up scum in here."

She could see the glimmer lighting in his eyes as he looked at her.

"Y'know, Bols, never really thought about doin' the deed in a cell before, but if you carry on like that..."

"No, no," she purred, letting one hand snake down towards the collar of his shirt, fighting to keep her own desires in check, "let's save that for later. We have some fire to fight first."

"Changed your mind again, Alex?" Summers was everywhere she looked, shaking his head in disappointment towards her. "This isn't like you. You pick a path and stick to it. Logic and reason over emotional impulse."

She wanted to run away, escape his taunting, but as always it proved impossible.

"Or perhaps that's who you used to be. Don't you find that everything can change when you're somewhere else? That's what I like about being here."

"I haven't," she reiterated, her voice sounding as though it was echoing into a void, "I just need a little bit longer, that's all. I can't just disappear without any explanation."

"Excuses, excuses...I've got a coin here, we could solve it now."

She shook her head fiercely, the world around her going black aside from the persistence of his figure.

"He's vulnerable. He needs help. He needs me." The ache grew in her chest as she thought of Gene. "Just a little longer, until I know that he'll be alright."

The gaze meeting her was hard, failing to understand the very real dilemma that she faced.

"Have you ever considered that you're the one making him vulnerable? The Lion was as strong as anything before Alex Drake came along. A little battle-scarred, perhaps...love does strange things to a man. Makes him weak."

An unnerving smirk rose upon his lips, sending her blood cold.

"Leaving will be the best thing you could do for him."

"You're trying to trick me. I know you are. The bullet's out now. I can do this my own way."

A bitter laugh emerged, echoing around her ears.

"I'm in control! I'm in control..."

"You keep telling yourself that, Alex."

He clicked his fingers and the whole world shifted. Once again she was back in that familiar room, lying in the hospital bed, monitors beeping around her.

"Mum!"

"Molls..."

Her daughter's arms around her neck, her head pressed to the side of hers. She held on tight to her, clinging onto what she knew was true and what would come to be again.

Outside the room she could hear commotion, the raising of voices. Her heart stuttered as she heard the slam of palms against the door, glimpsed his face through the small pane.

"Will you bloody let me in, I need to be with 'er!"

"Gene," she gasped, Molly's arms still wrapped about her.

"I've got a right to be 'ere. You can't keep me away from 'er..."

She imagined that the door would break down any second, but it proved to be too much of a barrier.

Summers was at her side again, speaking into her ear.

"Who will it be, Alex? You can't keep both of them."

He placed a hand on Molly's shoulder, though she didn't seem to be aware of him.

"Get your hands off her," her voice lowered; she tried fervently to mask her desperation.

"Come on, Molly. Time to say goodbye to your mum."

She relinquished her grip, smiling towards Alex in the bed.

"Bye, Mum."

As she turned to go, Alex saw the gun that Summers held to the small of her daughter's back.

"No! Molls...don't you dare!"

Molly turned her head back round and just as she thought Summers was going to take aim, her heart frozen in fear within her chest, he smirked and raised the gun higher, his target the small glass pane of the door.

"I suppose that means it'll be him. What will Fenchurch East do without their Guv?"

The handle of the door rattled from the outside.

"Bolly...I'm comin' for yer, it's alright..."

"Gene, stay there. Please!"

Summers turned to offer her a sickening smile, his finger poised on the trigger.

"Tails, you lose..."

The sound of her screams and cries woke her up, the darkness still surrounding her. Gene's arms were around her in an instant, though she pushed him away at first, believing he was Summers. He didn't give up so easily, clasping her tighter, holding her to his chest. She felt the recognisable thudding of his heart against her head.

"Christ, Bolly. Scared me 'alf to death." His voice vibrated against her; even with his arms circling her she was shaking, couldn't seem to stop herself from doing so. "Shhh, it's alright. Alex. I've got yer, Alex. You're safe."

He rocked her as though she were a child, her head tucked underneath his chin. Aside from her laboured breathing, gradually slowing and evening out, the room was silent.

"Gene...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Ey, you don't need to say sorry, you daft mare. Everything's alright."

She began to whimper as she kept her head buried against his chest, the shadows covering them as they sat in her bed. Was there greater trouble around the corner, something she hadn't even bargained on?

"Those bastards," he muttered, his hand tangling in her hair, "if they even dare to come back 'ere , they'll wish they'd never been born. As for that piece of scum Riley, 'e'll get what's comin' to 'im..."

She lost track of what he was saying, thinking only of the dreadful scenario that her head had conjured up with the assistance of Summers. She honestly thought that once she'd had the operation that would be it; he'd stop plaguing her, disappear back to wherever he had come from without insisting upon her help and she could get back with the way of her own choosing. She berated herself for being so naive. You should have learnt by now, it's not that simple.

"Gene," she murmured, recovering herself somewhat.

"Sorry, love." He pulled back, checking her over as if they'd been caught up in the commotion of a crime scene. In the dim light of the room she could just about make out the marks on his arms, the evidence of the beating he had been subjected to that had otherwise been hidden by his clothes. "D'you need anything? Glass of water, or somethin' stronger?"

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his, still holding more than a hint of fear even if it was largely masked by the darkness of the night.

"Just...hold me."

"I can do that. Come 'ere, love, let's get you comfortable."

He brought them both to lie back down, pulling her back flush against his chest, one arm secure around her waist while his other hand ran soothingly up and down her arm.

She couldn't let her mind go blank completely but the darkness helped, as did the murmuring of his voice, the warmth and whisky-tinge of his breath on the back of her neck.

"Only a bad dream, Bols. Nothin' can hurt you, not while I'm 'ere."

All well and good, she thought as the bulk of him lay behind her, remaining oblivious. But I don't think I can stop something from hurting you.

She found herself drifting in and out that evening. Another case concluded, equilibrium restored. Chris and Shaz sat huddled together, having quite literally kissed and made up, Shaz full of ideas for the wedding. It wouldn't have been a surprise if she had started making a small-scale seating plan on the back of one of the menus, so giddy was she. "It's goin' to be the best day of your life," Chris had promised her, and there was no reason not to believe him.

Amidst the happiness, she felt haunted by what had come of Colin Mitchell and his father, his killer. How could a father see fit to do that to his own son, a situation becoming so broken that it went past the point of all retrieval? Stanley Mitchell did appear to be a ruined man, the remorse clear in his eyes. A moment of madness, the worst never meant. Yet underneath the surface there had been room enough for calculation, the natural instinct to save his own skin not eradicted.

"It had gone too far with him," he had told them during the interview, "the poison had sunk too deep. I couldn't save him, bring him back to what he had been. He'd been such a good lad when he was young. He was like my shadow. What I wouldn't give to be able to go back..."

Her father had tried to kill her. She had been an innocent, surely there had been no excuse? She could still see his face upon the screen, giving justification for his actions to her adult self.

"The truth was sullied and it could never be unsullied."

She had adored her father for all of her life. Part of her still did, even after the truth of what he had done had been revealed. Something had poisoned him. Her mother's betrayal. His mind, always so logical, had been shattered. His heart broken, beyond all repair. Could it ever be worth taking such destructive action? If he had the choice, perhaps he would have done things differently.

"But shed no tears for me, Caroline or Alex. We are where we want to be. Together, forever."

He came to her in another guise, the white paint cracking upon his face. She'd always been terrified of clowns, though she had never been able to explain why.

It's not too late, Alex. You can still come and join us.

A hand was stretching out towards her, almost as real as if he was in the room.

We can be together again, forever.

She pulled herself up just in time, before she screamed the walls down and left them all speechless, in no doubt of her insanity.

"Duly noted." Gene's voice came back into her consciousness; she turned her gaze towards him as he addressed Luigi over the noisy crackling of the radio that was playing. "And stick some music on. Whatever Mussolini speech that is, it's givin' me a 'eadache."

"It's the football, Signor Hunt," Luigi explained enthusiastically, turning the radio up louder, "Italia. Campioni del mondo! Squadra azzurri. Greatest team on Earth!"

Ray walked up towards the bar, cigarette in hand. "Yeah, it's only 'cause you didn't meet us on the way."

The commentator bellowed at a hundred miles an hour, everyone other than Luigi screwing up their faces at what they considered to be a load of unintelligible rubbish.

"Is there any news, doctor?"

Molly's voice, interrupting the broadcast.

Luigi leaned forward, making to adjust the station.

"Is my mum going to be okay?"

"No, no, don't touch it," Alex stood up, blocking the Italian's reach, tipping her head closer to the receiver.

"Yes, Molly. Your mum's doing really well and the operation was a complete success."

A voice that she didn't recognise, but all the news was good. That must mean I'm going home soon.

"Now we just have to wait for her to wake up. It won't be long before you can be with her again."

Her heart, which had been melancholic, lifted up. "Thank you," she murmured, tears of gratitude pricking at her eyes.

"Doctor, the coma patient in room five is having a seizure."

"Okay, nurse, I'll be right there."

The reception crackled, returning to its previous broadcast.

"GOAL!"

Luigi jumped for joy, almost knocking her from her feet in his euphoria.

"Goal! Si! Goal! Goal! Goal, si! Bravo, Italia!"

As he reached out for her she hugged him instinctively, thoughts of Molly and being back home filling her mind and making her similarly euphoric. It won't be long, not at all.

Luigi's grin was wide as she pulled away, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Champagne, Luigi, I think."

"Si, si," he replied, a little dazed before he disappeared back behind the bar.

"I 'ope that's goin' on your tab, Bolly," Gene quipped, lowering his voice. "Need to keep that little matter on the hush-hush."

"You know, I'm going to miss these nights," she smiled as she sank back into her seat, "you lot, you're not that bad."

"S'not what you said in your letter," Ray muttered. Both Chris and Shaz shot him an accusing look, but he remained guilt-free.

"In my what, Ray?"

"The letter," he repeated, still bold as brass, "you know, the one we're not s'posed to open until you're gone."

She supposed that she shouldn't have been too shocked that DS Carling had ignored her request, holding her hand out towards him to ask for the article back. She might have expected Chris to follow suit – and indeed, he did – but Shaz came as more of a disappointment.

"These are going in my desk," she announced, feeling a bit like a school-ma'am, "and if – when I get back, then you can have them."

Luigi scooted over, depositing the champagne and flutes upon the table.

"And I'm not repressed, or whatever it bloody said," Ray snapped, "it's bollocks, that."

Shaz's smiling face was a welcome relief from Ray's scowl. "What you said, ma'am, about my potential? I really appreciate it."

"Couldn't understand a bloody word of mine," Chris admitted, quite happily.

Her gaze flitted over towards where Gene sat, eyeing him intently until he made the move of his own accord, taking the letter from the inside pocket of his jacket and handing it back to her.

"What did you do?" she asked, examining the apparently unbroken seal carefully, "steam it and then seal it back up again?"

"No," he responded plainly, elbow leaning heavily on the table.

She drew herself forward closer to him, the smile waiting to spring forth on her lips at the assurance of his faithfulness.

"Didn't read it? Not even a little bit curious about what I'd written about you?"

He pulled himself up, leaning in close so that they were almost nose to nose. Alex's heart drummed within her chest, her breath held in suspension as she waited for him to make the next move. Of course he wasn't going to kiss the face off her, not in front of everyone else.

"You see, that's your problem, Bols," he said, eyes locked with hers, "always got a question. Meanwhile there's a perfectly good bottle of shampoo there just waitin' to be opened."

With all the fuss over the letters she'd quite forgotten about the alcohol she had ordered. She reached for the bottle, gripping the neck in her hand.

He rolled his eyes at her efforts. "Give it 'ere, woman."

"I can do it."

He came closer still over the table. "Be quicker if you used yer knickers."

She raised her eyebrows suggestively, lowering her voice. "Who says I'm wearing any? I'm the one who ordered it, remember."

"Sweet Jesus..."

Once the bottle had been drained – not that it took very long between all of them – she found herself at the bar, feeling light-headed in a good way. The voices revolved in her head, offering her the reassurance she needed at just the right time. The operation was a complete success. It won't be long before you can be with her again. She closed her eyes, sniffing the air; she could smell the honey-scent of fresh tulips at her bedside, which meant that she must have been well enough to be in a regular room.

The tinge of sorrow remained in her heart, knowing that getting back home meant that she had to leave Gene behind. What was the saying; better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all. She could be grateful for that, and he seemed in better spirits since the Mitchell case had come to a head. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part, but she hoped not.

The man himself sidled up to join her, and she gave him a hazy smile, her eyes adjusting back to the light.

"Not pissed are we, Fizzy Knickers?" He cast his eyes down to where she was perched upon the stool. "That's if you've got them on."

"No to your first question," she replied, "and as for your second...well, you'll have to wait and see."

"Sounds good to me, Bols, especially as there's not long 'til closin' time." He turned himself towards her, his frame acting as a shield, and stared at her intently. "Dunno why you bothered with those letters."

"I was hoping that they could take a bit of advice, even if they can't show any restraint. Anyway, it's nice to have something of someone after they've gone. To remind you of them."

An ache rose in her throat as she thought of her parents again.

"Bloody 'ell, you're talkin' as though yer gunna croak it," he exclaimed. "I can safely say that nobody 'ere is gunna 'ave any trouble rememberin' you, Bols. Least of all me, unlucky sod that I am."

Though it was something of a back-handed compliment, she smiled at him anyway.

"I hope not."

His eyes burned as he kept them trained upon her. "Trust me, everythin' I need is up 'ere. On playback whenever I need it. Already at danger of breakin' the rewind button."

She chuckled, hunching her shoulders as she looked up at him. She had quite a few memories to take with her too, enough to sustain her on the cold and lonely nights back in 2008 – though they would never come close to the real thing.

"Y'know, I never did take you out for that dinner. Dover sole and all the trimmings. Yer still up for it?"

She could hardly say no, not when they'd skipped the whole dinner date component of their relationship almost completely entirely.

And she didn't know when she would be leaving. It could be hours, rather than days by now.

"Most definitely," she smiled, looking at him with wonder. He might not keep much store with sentimental keepsakes, but his soul wasn't completely devoid of romance. He did know what was important, and especially so to her.

"Good," he said, wearing a smile of his own, one which reached straight into her soul. A perfect keepsake of her own. "Luigi won't bug me about the bloody tab for one night. And remember what I said about the dress-code, Bols. Give me a lastin' image of yer."

She already had precisely the thing in mind.