A/N: Parts of this chapter will be familiar...and others not so much. Thanks for reading, as ever!
Chapter 6
Don't make me feel any colder
Time is like a clock in my heart
Touch me touch, was the key too much
I felt I lost you from the start
Ooh in time it could have been so much more
But time is precious I know
In time it could have been so much more
The time has nothing to show
Because time won't give me time
And time makes lovers feel like they've got something real
But you and me we know we've got nothing but time
And time won't give me time
Tapping the pen in her hand against the desk in synchronicity with the ticking of the clock, Alex lamented. Second time around had proved to be as successful as the first. She had bought a new dress especially and booked an appointment at the hairdressers', but instead found herself freezing her arse off in the back of a Transit van for going on the entire night. Oh well; that was what being a police officer entailed, and she supposed it was more fitting for her last hurrah. At least she had still spent the evening with Gene, bundled up closer than they would have been at whatever swanky restaurant he had promised to take her to. The third most expensive bottle of Sauvignon Blanc on the menu replaced with watered-down tea from a flask.
She shivered with the memory of the night; it had been bitterly cold, the first real hint of the oncoming winter in the air. But the chills had more to do with how events had progressed once they were out of the van. Gene took unawares, an arm around his neck and a knife pointed at his throat. Instead of being swept off her feet by him at the end of a sumptuous evening the tables were turned, and it had been Mummy Bear to the rescue. It was getting to be a habit, her stomach rolling when she considered that the occurrences of Gene being in danger were more than just coincidence.
He needs me. The conviction felt stronger than ever deep within her soul.
If she looked up she expected to see the face that taunted her constantly staring through the thin pane of glass in the swing doors.
Time's running out...leaving will be the best thing you could do.
The drug bust hadn't been her last case after all, not once the body turned up underneath a slab of concrete. An accident, no complications or hidden mysteries. Sometimes bad things just happen. There doesn't have to be a reason.
She'd do well to remember that.
That was, of course, until the pathologist turned up something more. Now they had a murder case on their hands and her first hunch that it was all rather coincidental that both a truckload of drugs and a dead body were on the same building site seemed to be proving to have more substance. Synapses were lighting up a trail in her brain, followed by the sound of small bells sounding.
Two for two. I think you're onto something. Now, if you can hit the jackpot then we'll all be happy...
She had to do something; sitting and ruminating had never led to anything worthwhile.
"Does anyone want a cup of tea?"
She stood up, waving a mug in her hand, waiting for a response that never came. Not so much as a glance of interest towards her.
"Hello...am I invisible?"
I suppose you are, Alex.
Sitting at her desk, Shaz was scribbling away on a large piece of paper that was spread out in front of her.
"Now, I thought that my aunties could go here, and that means there would be space for your rowdy cousins near the back, which will keep the peace...Chris? Have you heard a word I've been saying?"
DC Skelton pulled his head upwards, looking over at Shaz with sufficiently delayed reactions.
"Er yeah...whatever you like."
The usually sunny disposition of the younger woman turned to thunder in the swiftest of seconds. "Well, you could at least pretend to be interested. I mean, it's nothing really, only the most important day of our lives, and yet you don't give a toss!"
" 'e's only gettin' in trainin'," Ray remarked, appearing far too amused, "might as well get used to it now."
Shaz ignored Ray's sniping, her gaze fixed upon Chris. "After the other week I thought you understood how much this meant to me. And I thought it meant something to you too." She sniffed loudly, bringing a hand up to her eyes. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought."
Rather too late Chris snapped out of his daydreaming, watching an obviously-upset Shaz head out of CID's main room and into the kitchenette.
"Shazza, wait!"
"If you're makin' a brew, then get one for me an' all," Ray shouted after the departed pair, and finally noticed Alex as he got out of his seat, wandering over to Shaz's desk to have a nosey.
"I asked literally two minutes ago," she exclaimed with exasperation to Ray's dismissive shrug, before his eyes went downward. "I don't think you should be looking at that. It's private."
"Is it 'eck. I'm not bloody riflin' through 'er diary."
Alex remained unimpressed, although not surprised. Nothing was sacred in here, least of all the respect for anyone's privacy.
After a moment's contemplation, a grin spread across Ray's face and he clapped his hands together.
"Bloody jackpot. Alice and Elizabeth. They sound like a right pair of crackers. Now to 'ope that they've got them as well, and I'll be a very happy man indeed."
"Chris'sake, don't tell me we've got a kidnappin' on our hands an' all." Gene cast his steely gaze around the room, which was rather depleted. "Where are the rest of them?"
"Poirot and Terry are scouting the building site," she handily informed him.
"And the lovebirds 'ave had another tiff."
Ray pointed Gene's attention to what was laid out upon Shaz's desk.
"Soddin' hell," he said with a groan, "I 'ad hoped she was doin' somethin' of importance. Once a plonk, always a bloody plonk...I've got a mind to rip that thing to shreds right now."
"You might not 'ave to bother, Guv," Ray interjected, "by the sounds of things I reckon the whole thing's off. For at least a couple of hours, anyway."
"Boo bloody hoo. Best take that suit back, then."
He looked up from the plan that was as detailed as if Shaz had been planning a complicated heist, catching Alex's eye for a moment before addressing the dwindled number that were gathered.
"Unless I am mistaken we are investigatin' a murder case, and if we don't pull our fingers out we're gunna wish we were the ones swimmin' in concrete. Time to start acting like police officers and stop thinkin' we've landed in Mallory bloody Towers!"
Without him having to bark one of her nicknames she arrived at his side, following him as he went back the short distance to his office.
"When Grainger gets back you can tell 'er to do the same, and get that bleedin' thing out of sight."
Ray nodded his understanding solemnly, the smirk breaking out again once the door to Gene's office was firmly shut and the blinds closed.
"Bet 'e wishes she 'ad a school-girl's uniform..."
Alex leant against the desk gingerly, watching as Gene paced the floor back and forth, attempting to work out his frustration. It was a matter of seconds before he reached for the scotch tucked not very cleverly away, swigging straight from the bottle before offering her an empty glass, which she politely refused.
Hardly a good sign, even for someone like him. He was more shaken than he was letting on. But what could she do? It wasn't something that could be solved within the space of a few days, and she couldn't stay around for much longer, not when the bullet was out and there was no other reason to delay, other than for the man standing in front of her whom she did care deeply about, against all better reason.
"Stop bloody starin' at me," he ordered, quieter than she had expected.
"Sorry," she murmured, fiddling with an earring and dropping her gaze to the floor.
Even with everything that had passed between them so frequently she felt as though she was standing on the edges, kept cold to her bones. It was for the best, really; things didn't need to get yet more complicated. She wouldn't be happy leaving it this way, though. Their bond had to be honoured for what it really was, not a fling to pass the time or a distraction to keep her heart beating.
Maybe that was the key, more significant then she'd ever given credit for. He'd saved her countless times and she was only beginning to scratch the surface on breaking even. But it didn't have to be a physical feat. It was the emotional part, that closed-off bit of his psyche that she needed to get to. In so many moments when it had been just the two of them and they had exchanged deep looks without the space-filling presence of words she was certain that she was more than halfway there.
"The other night," she said, clearing her throat and capturing his attention once more, "if you want me to apologise, then I'm not going to. I'd rather be your rescuer than your nurse-maid."
His eyes blazed as she stared at him, ignoring his previous command and holding her arms against her chest. Gradually the pressure eased and he offered no counter-argument, to her pleasant surprise.
"Wouldn't mind seein' you in the get-up," he replied, causing her to smile briefly. A hand went to the back of his head, scratching his neck. "I dunno, caught me unawares. Not that it's 'appened very often before, which is probably what did it."
"Of course not."
Her smile deepened as his gaze bent to her will, steel not being completely immovable. Gene Hunt was capable of admitting to the chinks in his armour; miracles could indeed happen.
He came closer to her, muttering something almost unintelligible with his head pointed towards the floor.
"Sorry, I don't think I quite caught that."
He wore a disgruntled expression, reluctantly softening as his eyes locked once more with hers.
"Thank you," he repeated more clearly as he towered over her, and she felt a rush within her veins, her body flooding with adrenaline and phenylethylamine.
Wasn't so hard after all.
The feeling floated within the air, lasting as he continued to look towards her as if she were the only thing that mattered on the earth. Reality was never far away, or at least some version of it.
"Do you think they'll turn anything up at the site?" she asked, getting them back to business.
"Probably not, unless by some ruddy miracle a brickie sees fit to make an unprompted confession. But I've never been that lucky."
Half of her hoped that it would take a while, just so that she had the chance to see him right, whilst the other half writhed in guilt.
"Do 'ave somethin' though. I tracked down my mysterious informant," he went on, his eyes fixed on her but taking on a decidedly less romantic air. "Much as it pains me to say it, I think you might be right."
"No, no. I'm not right. I'm wrong." She watched him as his eyebrows raised in disbelief that she could admit to such a thing. "It's just the way things happen sometimes and it doesn't have to be complicated."
He shook his head, looking away from her. "No. It's too much of a coincidence."
Well, she was getting sick to the back teeth of coincidences.
Behind them the phone rang and he let a moment pass, sharing a glance with her before moving out of her line of vision to answer it.
"Ta, Shaz. Let 'im in."
Alex looked over her shoulder, watched as his long fingers put the receiver back into place.
"Speak of the devil."
She tipped her head back slowly, the substances that had been rushing in her bloodstream freezing to ice as said informant came through the door, the rest of CID looking on eagerly to get as much as they could about the tall, young policeman in the pristine uniform who had entered the Guv's office.
He glanced towards Alex briefly before looking dead ahead, greeting Gene with a cautious tone but a clear eye.
"DCI Hunt?" he enquired, the Irish accent distinctive to her listening ears. "PC Summers."
She barely heard a word of the exchange, only speaking once herself, asking a terse question to the outsider and trying fervently not to meet his eyes for more than a couple of seconds at a time. She felt woozy and on edge all at once, needing to be ready for the fight if it came. He remained firm to the spot, a perfect model of obedience.
How could this be happening? When she had asked Shaz to look up Martin Summers nothing had been returned, which led her to believe that he really was just a figment. She felt sick as it occurred to her; of course there wouldn't be anything on file that fit the description, because he wasn't a Detective Inspector then.
She chanced another, longer glance at this Summers. He was likely mid-twenties, which would have fit. The resemblance was striking, not only in physical appearance but in his mannerisms and the way he held himself. She could have been looking at the son of the Summers she knew, if he indeed had one.
Perhaps that was the explanation, and they were in it together. But could that have even possible? It seemed very convenient that two generations would be in the same hospital, one sacrificing himself for the other. He would have mentioned something, surely, especially when he took great pleasure in taunting her about Molly.
"Well, thank you for bringin' this to my attention," Gene moved a hand in the air, "dismissed."
"Sir," the young Summers responded, hovering at the door.
Just go, Alex willed silently, go and never come back.
"Look, you won't, er...I mean, you won't tell anyone I came?"
She turned towards Gene, taking notice of the look in his eyes.
"Thank you, constable."
PC Summers slipped out of the office, leaving her unsettled and uncomfortable. It was all too real now; no longer an illusion she could blame on confusion or clinging onto the edge of consciousness.
"Seems like a good lad," was Gene's assessment, oblivious to the chaos that lay behind everything.
It seemed like hours had passed before she could bring herself to meet his eyes.
"Bloody 'ell, Bols. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Her legs felt unsteady as she stood upon them. "Something...something's come over me."
"Thought yer liver was cast-iron by now." He nodded towards the door, giving her permission to leave. "Go on, but bloody hurry."
She headed for the swing doors swiftly, hoping that she wasn't too late. Her gaze flitted from corner to corner, determinedly on the lookout, and then she saw his figure briefly, ducking into the gents.
Keeping her breath paused she watched him as he stood stopped in front of a cubicle, almost as if he was waiting for something to happen. She pushed that particular suspicion from her mind, seizing him by the collar and shoving him against said cubicle, the adrenaline surging and supplying her with the strength to keep him pinned in place.
"What the hell are you doing?" he stuttered, his eyes wide.
"What are you doing here?"
"I – I told the DCI." He tried to manoeuvre himself, wrench away from her tight grip. "Look, I thought - "
"Just as I'm finally about to get out of here, you show up. It's a coincidence too far." Her pulse was pounding in her neck, pain radiating in her frontal cortex. "Is that really your name?"
"I don't - "
"Is it your name?!" Her throat was raw with the force of shouting.
"Yes," he responded, his voice shaky. "I - I don't understand. Am I supposed to know you?"
"I know about you," she said, her fists clenching. She could throw him in a cell right now, if it wouldn't cause all hell to break loose. "Where is he, then? Waiting outside, I suppose?"
"I don't know who..."
"Don't play games with me, I've had enough of it." He was doing a very good job of playing dumb. "You – your boss."
"I don't know what you mean. Please, I've done what I had to do...just let me go, please."
She drew her face closer to his, could observe his own pulse ticking sharply in his neck.
"Alright," her fingers loosened themselves, knowing that she had little choice now that he had involved himself in the case, made himself known to Gene. "But you tell him to leave me out of it, whatever it is. I'm not going to play along, even now that he's got you following me."
He continued to look at her perplexed, even frightened by her display.
"The bullet's out. I am going to do this in my own way, and I am not going to give in. You tell him that, right? That I will get back on my own terms."
She pushed him out of her grasp, towards the door, and he looked back at her fighting for breath before making a swift dash.
Alex leaned against the wall, trying to regulate her breathing, her hand held underneath her left breast, commanding her heart to slow itself. She went to the sink, splashing some cold water upon her face, and after a moment or two rationality kicked in.
She headed out of the toilets and strode purposefully towards the front desk, a plan formulating quickly. While she couldn't let Gene know she also couldn't let Summers slip away, not when the chance was right there ready for the taking.
"Viv, ring my extension."
The skipper's gaze followed her as she went back in the direction of CID. "Ma'am...?"
"Just ring it, please."
She made it to her desk before the phone stopped, plucking up the receiver.
"D.I. Drake. Right...okay...stay there, I'll be over as soon as I can."
As if on command Gene emerged from his office, eyeing her with concern. "Bolly?"
She shucked on her jacket, offering him a glance. "You're not the only one with informants."
His expression changed in a flash, hardening towards her. "And why 'aven't I known about this before now?"
"They're nervous," she explained, the need to leave as quickly as she could heavy on her mind, "it needs a sensitive approach. I'm going alone."
"Bolly..."
"I won't be long," she did her best to stay calm, appeasing him with a measured tone, "this could be really important. Trust me."
To her relief he didn't say anything more, nor moved to stand in her way.
She broke into a run on exiting the station, not for the first time cursing the impracticality of her footwear. She was surprised she hadn't fell and twisted her ankle before now. Turning the first corner she felt that it was probably hopeless; he'd be long gone by now, especially if he had jumped a cab. She was about to give up when she turned onto the next street but then the uniformed figure with honeyed hair came into view. Energy flooded her anew.
She stayed on his tail as he turned down various corners, busying herself with apparent distractions so as not to be too close in sight. He entered a pub at the top of Bedford Row and she found herself lingering in the nearby streets, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible to passers-by. If only Poirot and Terry hadn't taken so bloody long she could have used their car instead of going on foot.
Luckily he left a little over half-an-hour later, changed into civilian clothes and wearing a pull-on hat. It was his gait that gave him away and Alex continued her pursuit, feeling even more unnerved. He must be up to something if he doesn't want to be identified.
She followed him out of the city and into the suburbs, tall and largely leafless trees lining the pavements. Concealing herself behind one she watched as he stopped on a corner, looking about the otherwise empty street. Her heart was in her throat, hoping that he hadn't gotten wind of her. She felt so distracted, she almost failed to notice where they had ended up. Her recollections came into sharp focus as he turned the corner into the adjoining road and as she ducked behind a row of parked cars, watching him as he crossed the quiet street, her heart dropped like a stone.
Summers looked up towards the top of the house after entering through the gate, shifting on his feet, hesitating. Alex watched him as he moved forward with more purpose, making his way within centimetres of the door. Please, she shouted within her head, don't do this. I'm begging you.
She could see that he was ready to burst through the door, using his shoulder to barricade his way in, but at the last moment something stopped him. An attack of conscience or a hangover of fear, she had no way of knowing. He looked up again, pulling the hat from his head and turning back down the steps, closing the gate without making a sound and starting to jog back down the route from whence he had came, not sacrificing another glance or second.
Her stomach was churning and her hands were still shaking from the scene she had witnessed as she made her way up to the house. She could have walked the path in her sleep, her feet remembering the way she had skipped along, making a game of avoiding the cracks between the flags.
She pressed on the doorbell, unsure of whether she should similarly turn tail. But she'd come this far and had to do something.
The dishevelled figure blinked at her in disbelief on opening the door, looking as though he hadn't long been roused from sleep. "Alex?"
She managed a smile towards him, trying not to come across too abhorred by his appearance. His hair was unkempt and shaggy, his beard longer and in desperate need of a trim. He wore a t-shirt and faded jeans which left her disorientated; in all her life she'd never seen him in such tatty clothes, he was always so fastidious about the way he presented himself.
"Evan," she uttered, half-wondering whether she had got the right house until he gave a small smile in response. Shit, now she was face to face with him she had no idea what to actually say. "Um, I'm here on an investigation. Scouting the area."
He accepted her explanation without question, standing awkwardly and half-disguised by the open door.
"I thought while I was here I might as well stop by."
He nodded; his eyes seemed glazed as he cast them back from the floor towards her. "Would you...um, would you like to come in?"
It didn't feel right; she felt acutely like an intruder, there under false pretences. Still, it seemed impolite to refuse and she felt responsible and worried for him. He could have been killed, if Summers hadn't changed his mind.
"Hunt not in tow?" he asked as she followed him through the hallway, trying not to look at the surroundings she found so familiar.
"No, it's a big job. We're casting the net wide, spreading out."
"Sounds worrying. Please," he stood back, signalling that she should go through into the front room first, "can I get you anything? Coffee?"
Though perfectly innocent the offer cast a shiver up her spine. To think at one point she had actually seriously considered doing more than flirting with him, thinking that nothing she did here could possibly matter. She knew differently now.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"I might...if you don't mind?"
She smiled, shaking her head. "Go ahead."
The room was in as much of a state as Evan seemed to be, plates on the floor where there wasn't enough space for them on the table, letters and newspapers strewn out. She had to make her way carefully towards the sofa, noticing that only one of the blinds covering one window was open, throwing light into half of the room but leaving the rest in dim shadow.
"Sorry about the mess," he apologised when he came in a few minutes later, sitting himself on the armchair opposite, "I don't have many visitors."
"There's no need," she replied, putting on a voice. She could certainly never remember things being so out of hand. Childhood memories could be distorted, obviously, but she doubted to such an extent as this.
He was looking away from her, aware of what she must have thought and feeling ashamed for it. Not that he had any need to be.
"How is everything?" she asked. Oh, nice one, Alex. "I haven't seen you...well, since..."
The explosion sounded loud against her ears, robbing her temporarily of her hearing. Nothing other than flames in front of her. She had sunk helplessly to her knees, unable to do anything to stop what had always been inevitable. Looking up the hill she saw her younger self and Gene's figure running towards her, taking her small hand. She felt it in her own, even though it must have been impossible. The sky above turned from blue to grey, clouded by the reams and reams of smoke, and she screamed towards it as another burst came forward, robbing any chance that there was left.
Gene's voice in her mind, confirming himself and dismissing all she had chosen to believe so fervently.
"I'm everywhere, Bolly. I was needed and I was there."
He met her gaze again, at a temporary loss for words.
"Um, good," he lied, scratching the side of his nose, "I mean, as good as I can be, in the circumstances."
"No cases?"
He shook his head. "I'm on a leave of absence, until the new year. They've been very good about it, I've been lucky. To tell you the truth, I'm dreading going back."
She thought for the first time about what she would do, work-wise, when she came round. No doubt she'd be prevented from field duty and she couldn't see them letting her coach other officers, either, not when she had suffered such a trauma herself. It would give her time to finish off the book properly, even if the thought made her rather uneasy. Perhaps she'd omit the Sam Tyler chapter.
"And how...how is Alex?" It always felt strange referring to herself directly; she was juggling so many different versions.
He smiled at the mention. "She's well. She's away at school, just gone back after the half term."
"Of course. Thank God," she uttered without thinking. Summers wouldn't have succeeded anyway, if that had been his plan, to gun down Evan and then to shoot her, the innocent incarnation who deserved it the least of all.
"Sorry?"
She caught herself, straightened her shoulders. "Oh, just...thank God you have her, really. And that she has you, too."
She didn't want to imagine what it would have been like if Evan's bid for custody had been unsuccessful. Aside from him, she really did have no one.
Or at least, had.
His smile returned. "Yes, we're very lucky. I don't know what I would have done without Alex. She gives me a reason..." His voice trailed off a little, the emotion within it evident. "I put on a show for her. Hence, when she's away, things quickly slide."
She nodded in understanding. "I know how hard it is, to raise a child on your own." As he dipped his head she knew that wasn't the only struggle that affected him. "Have you ever...thought about seeing someone? To help you with...grief takes a long time to overcome, if we ever overcome it completely."
If anything it had hit her harder the second time around, the knowledge that had been previously hidden from her compounding the weight of the feeling.
"I'm not sure it would help," he said after a long silence, his voice croaky and unshed tears visible in his eyes. "It's not grief that haunts me. Well, it is there, obviously, but..."
The uneasy sensation overwhelmed her as she watched him grapple with trying to find the words. She shouldn't be here. Wished that she had never come to know the truth.
"I should go."
"No," he all but cried out, compelling her to sit back down after she had rose, and smiling weakly through his tears. "Please. It'll be a relief to say it out loud. I mean that."
She settled herself back on the sofa, waiting patiently for him to continue. Another position she had never expected herself to be in, offering a sympathetic ear to her godfather. She couldn't say that it was entirely non-judgemental.
"It's the guilt," he began again slowly, stopping to inhale deeply and then exhale, wanting to release the pain. "Knowing that I could have done more. If I had just been that bit more persistent...but I've never really been like that. I asked her, more than once."
She closed her eyes briefly, seeing the face before her. Mum.
"You were in love with her, weren't you?"
It pained her to say it, thinking of her father and the torture he must have gone through when he found out. She recalled his voice, listening in on a conversation she should never have been privy to. I felt we would be together forever. Forever and ever.
She was torn, knowing that he didn't deserve her sympathy, not when he could have took her life so cheaply. Yet she couldn't erase the love completely.
"You were in love with Caroline."
His eyes went wide; the least surprising confession that had ever been uttered to her.
"She was in love with me, too. I knew she was. Things between her and Tim had become irreparable, but I never expected he would...I asked her," he returned to where he had been before she had interrupted him, "Begged her, is the more accurate way of putting it, to run away with me. I don't really know to where, I hadn't figured that out."
That seemed characteristic, somehow.
"I was crushed when she said no, but I understood. She never would have left Tim, even with everything as it was. She never would have left Alex. She loved her so much. She wanted everything to be right for her. All she did was to protect her, even if she couldn't have known..."
His voice broke as he began to cry properly, and she fought to hold back her own tears at his revelations.
My mother loved me. She loved me.
That love will keep me going, it will make me survive.
So much love. Too much. Something has to give.
"I wish I had some way of knowing, as stupid as that sounds. Some way of seeing into the future." He sniffed back the tears that weren't close to stopping. "I might have been able to stop it, if I could have got there sooner. That bastard..."
"You couldn't have done anything," she said, her voice catching slightly, "nobody could have."
You can't change history. I tried; I tried so hard.
She had dreamt of her mother telling her the opposite and woke up in tears, streaming down her face.
She offered him a tissue from the box that was almost hidden out of sight with all the debris on the table.
"I can't help thinking that it was my fault. I should never have...I should have run away at the first signs." He smiled wistfully, scrunching up the tissue in his hand. "You can't help which way you fall, I suppose."
Gene's face was in her mind as her stomach simultaneously contracted in pain and filled with butterflies. She was reliving something that hadn't even happened yet.
"You do know when I walk through those doors they're goin' to come for me?"
"Yeah. Well, there's only one thing for it..."
Doing away with the strange vision she looked towards Evan, smiling encouragingly.
"I'm sorry, but I really should..."
"Of course," he said, arising from his seat and following her out into the hallway. "It was nice to see you. And I'm sorry for all of..."
"No, no," she assured him. "I'm glad you could let it out. A little."
He smiled towards her, seeming more hopeful than he had done when she first arrived. Reassured, she was reminded of why she had come in the first place.
"Look, I don't want to alarm you, but you have to watch out." She watched as his expression shifted slightly. "I can't really go into it too much, but just...be careful. Especially when Alex is here. You have to look after her closely."
Evan nodded. "I will. It's become my life's work, especially in the last year."
She smiled, thinking of the past and all the times he had been there for her. He was the one who was looking after Molly now, while she was away, and she would be forever grateful.
"I could say the same to you about being careful," he returned after a moment or two.
"What?" Another shiver snaked through her veins, going deeper than those that had appeared previously.
He frowned. "This investigation, and generally. I mean, it's not an easy thing that you do."
"No." Relief came over her. "Thank you. I'll do what I can to stay vigilant."
She walked half the way and then jumped a cab back to the station, aware that the time was getting on to the end of the afternoon and she had been away longer than she had bargained on. As she could have expected when she slunk back through the doors of CID Gene was waiting for her, a face like thunder as he beckoned her back into the corridor.
"Where in God's name 'ave you been? I was on the verge of sendin' out a search party. I 'ope this tip-off of yours was worth it."
"Dead end," she thought quickly on her feet, "case of mistaken identity, I'm afraid."
He looked incredulous. "Then what the bloody 'ell were you doin' then? Havin' a spot of tea?"
"I'm allowed a bit of a breather, aren't I?"
"Not when you're on my team, you're not. Now we've got to go and pay Lafferty a visit tomorrow, and who knows 'ow many brickies 'e'll bump off in the meantime."
"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it?" she scoffed, folding her arms against herself defensively. "Besides, we only have one word for it, and I don't think it should be trusted." She lowered her voice even though there was nobody else around to listen. "What if Summers set this murder up?"
"I told that lad I'd keep his name out of it."
And you'd believe his word over mine? But of course, she couldn't give him her version of events.
"I'm telling you, this is exactly the kind of thing he'd do." She felt herself getting increasingly worked up. "Frame Lafferty to..."
"To what?" he cut across her.
She had to stop herself again. "I don't know, but he's up to something. He's calculating, he's manipulative, he's dangerous. That's what he is."
Please believe me, she pleaded with him in her mind, he could do something terrible to me. Destroy my whole life.
He remained unconvinced of her belief, hands planted in his pockets. "Seemed like a decent copper to me. Exactly what we need around 'ere. Now come on, Bols, let's get our thinkin' caps on over a bottle or two of house rubbish."
"I'll just go and freshen up," she said, beating a path to the ladies, leaving him with the smallest and weakest of smiles.
Even if he didn't believe what PC Martin Summers was capable of, she did. And it would be up to her to see that he would be brought to justice.
A dream within a dream. She woke when a hand shook her upon her shoulder, murmuring in confusion. Her mother's image was blurred, slowly coming into focus as she got her bearings, smiling at her from the edge of her bed. Her own bed, not the non-descript hospital one.
"Boo," she uttered softly, her smile unwavering, "I wish I could have spent more time with you."
The sorrow that was always apparent, dormant in her chest, surged up again. She reached a hand out, feeling herself shiver when her mother touched it with her own.
"But I...I thought I couldn't change anything. And I...I tried." Short of splitting herself further she couldn't see what else she could have done. She became more agitated by the second, consumed by her grief and guilt, what felt like a lifetime's worth, now doubled. "But I couldn't, and...I should have saved you and I didn't. Oh, Mum..."
She was pulled nearer, her mother's arms circling around her.
"Alex," she whispered against her hair. Her mother was the exact same age as she was now, in this different existence, cradling her as though she were still eight years old. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said."
"It's okay," Alex affirmed through tears. "I forgive you."
She pulled back, pressing her hands against Alex's face. "But you don't, really. Not for everything."
She felt as though she were eight again, discovering the secret instead of living a lie.
"I understand," she said, which they both knew was not the same thing. "And I'm sorry. You stayed for me. If it wasn't for me, you could have left him."
Whatever way I look at it, she died because of me.
Her mother shook her head fiercely. "I loved you. I would have always chosen you. There was never any other option."
Even now, in this vivid illusion, Alex's heart swelled. All of her life spent wondering; it had been such a waste of time and energy.
Through her smile a wave of sadness came, which Alex mistook at first. "I wanted better for you. Not to feel the same way as I did. Feeling torn in two. Always having a missing piece."
"Like mother, like daughter," Alex laughed bitterly, looking away in guilt and pain. Still, she could feel her mother's eyes upon her, burning in empathy. Not in judgment. "You should have chosen Evan. Then you'd still be alive."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she replied, as if she had visionary knowledge. "And it might have been a stroke of luck, but you were safe. I did the right thing, for you, and that's why I can be at peace."
Apparently she was the one fixated on the charmed life that her mother could have had.
Her hand prodded gently, bringing Alex's gaze upwards. Bringing her face to face with the truth.
"I know that a part of your heart will always be broken. And I don't promise that it'll be easy. But you'll learn to live with it, and so will he."
Her stomach twisted and turned, the way it always did when she thought about leaving Gene.
"You know that it's for the best. A daughter shouldn't be without her mother, not when it can be avoided."
Alex nodded. Being with her mother made the pull towards Molly stronger than ever. She missed her so much. She missed them both.
"I know," she answered. Someone was always going to have to lose. She still hated herself for it, knowing that she was going to cause such damage, perhaps irreparable. "But I don't know how to get home. At least not on my own."
"You'll find a way." She smiled easily again, running a hand down Alex's arm and settling her head back down upon the pillow. "Believe me."
Before her eyes closed again, her mother was gone.
There had been no time to say goodbye.
The room was still in darkness when she woke, rubbing the back of her hand over one eye. Not much past half four. There was a conspicuous vacancy to the side of her and she rolled onto her back, her palm tracing the sheets and the place where he had lain.
He had definitely been there; she remembered his body against her back, his arms around her. It had been the same protective and instinctive gesture at first and then his grip had become tighter, she woke and felt herself being pulled towards him.
In the quiet of the night she could hear him murmuring against her skin, calling out her name. He must have been having a dream; good or bad she couldn't seem to tell.
Being alone unsettled her. Of course it had been the norm before and she'd have to get used to it again. Molly was too old to be clambering in, snuggling up next to her after she'd had a nightmare. Perhaps it would be okay, just after she got back home properly and only for a little while.
She sat up, her back against the uncomfortable headboard and the sheets bunched around her, the satin too cold against her skin. Flicking on the lamp at the bedside she reached for the book that happened to be lying there but didn't even open it before Gene emerged, stumbling back from the bathroom. He'd put on his vest as well as his boxers and Alex felt rather disappointed at the fact, even if sex wasn't the primary thing on either of their minds at the moment. The tatty oversized t-shirt she wore herself didn't exactly speak of flaming passion lying in wait.
She smiled warmly towards him though he would have only seen it for a second at most, sitting with his back to her on the end of the bed.
" 'ad to go and 'ave a smoke," he muttered, though she could smell it on him as she crawled nearer, drawn to him like a magnet, "I left the window open."
She rested her chin on one broad shoulder, flung an arm round the other, thinking that on this occasion she wouldn't have especially minded if he'd lit up right next to her.
"You been awake for long?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing, placating in much the same way as when she used to lull and calm Molly from a night terror.
I know that you were dreaming about something, was what she really wanted to say. She could feel how tense he was by the way his frame was bunched, a thousand fraying knots lying beneath her fingers.
"Don't feel like I've slept for weeks. Too much goin' on, and none of it makes the least bit of bleedin' sense."
Everything lay so heavy upon him, all the responsibility not just for his team or their patch but the city as a whole. She thought that if he were able he'd want to ensure that the entire world was under his watch. It was far too much for one man to deal with, yet she'd never known anyone to be so absolutely determined. He'd told her before, on another night much the same as this one, and she'd hated hearing it, feeling an unexplainable recognition in her blood.
This job's goin' to kill me one of these days.
She threw her other arm around him too, her hand lying above his heart. "It'll be alright."
As he turned his head she kissed his neck, nuzzled her nose against him, the scent of cigarette smoke not even the most prominent. She wanted to promise more but couldn't bring herself to do so, too scared of both of them using it against her in the long run. She just wanted to be absorbed by this moment, more intimate than anything she'd ever experienced.
There was a heavy huff of breath before he replied, one hand moving to cover hers. He felt so detached that he probably didn't even realise he was doing so.
"Will it, Bols?"
She nodded her head, causing her lips to stutter against his skin as she nestled further. She expected that he would have stopped her by now, feeling too claustrophobic and fawned over.
Maybe he needed the comfort as much as she did. It wasn't like him to doubt, after all.
Out of all of the interruptions she welcomed this one the least, but she supposed she was impressed by his persistence.
Love does strange things to a man...makes him weak.
Shows how much you know, she answered back within her head, strikes me that he's stronger than ever. She had laid the foundations, perhaps, but she couldn't lay claim to crafting his emotions for him. A lion complete with the last component of courage.
One last case before she'd leave him, she hesitated to say a better man as she knew it had always been within him. Those red shoes would take her home soon enough, but a few more nights wouldn't go amiss.
"Come on," she coaxed him gently, her other hand slipping beneath the hem of his vest, the contact she had been craving all night curving her lips at the corners, "let's forget about it while we can."
He frowned for a moment and then caught her lips with his, softly. A couple of kisses and then he pulled her hand away from him, manoeuvred himself to stand. His eyes held promise, though, assuring her that he wouldn't desert her; the same as always.
"Gunna close that window first," he said, making his way back into the darker half of the room, "the last thing I need is you catchin' a bloody cold."
She smiled as she lay back down upon the pillow. No chance of that. I feel so much better now. Still tired though, which was hardly shocking considering the day she'd had.
Once he was back beside her, planting a quick kiss to the back of her neck and placing his arms around her again, she closed her eyes.
There's time enough yet. Time to forget, and then remember, clearer than before.
I'll find a way.
I have to.
A/N: Time (Clock Of The Heart) written and performed by Culture Club.
(FYI, I do have a bit of a kink for Alex being Gene's rescuer *and* his nurse-maid...)