Chapter 27
Happenstance, an episode unplanned alone in time
Coincidence, the second chance resounding like a rhyme
How paths may cross against the odds
To wreck the plans you made
Among the crowd a face that smiles
To melt your masquerade
"If only I could see you" says the stranger deep inside
And lets you know that when you were so sure, you really lied
"If only I could see you" says the voice within your brain
And quietly, insistently, it says it once again
And then, I really need to know
So many emotions possessed her, one not staying for long enough until it gave way to another. Underlying beneath everything, propelling her along through the minutes and hours, was a strong sense of anticipation. It had its many guises and nuances, for certain. Nervousness was a predominant, preferred one. Dread was another, which she did not like to acknowledge but knew that it was important that she did.
It felt strange to concede, given the quite unique and terrible circumstances, but there was excitement too. The kind that was so fevered that it caused her to wake up in the middle of the night and struggle to eat anything, like the vital substance running through her veins was made of pure electricity, charging her and making it impossible to get any rest.
She was excited at the prospect of seeing Gene again, in the 'real world'. Her world, and Molly's too.
Without thinking she found herself counting down the days, the hours, the minutes until the consultation with Mr Gerrard. He'd been surprised to hear from her, going so far as to say that he hoped that he would never have to again. She knew that he was referring to her own significant brush with death, or rather when she was held in the space between.
It was wonderful to see Maggie again. They had stayed in touch since their first meeting, when so much about who Gene really was had been unlocked to her. There had never been a chance of her doing this alone, but it wasn't until Maggie's car pulled up outside the house that she realised how important it was to have the support of someone who had known Gene for much longer than she had – someone who really knew him.
For as much as she wanted to believe that she did, for Alex it was only the beginning.
She was quiet and contemplative on the journey to the hospital, which took less than twenty minutes even with central London traffic. The suddenness of it struck her, at the same time as it also felt like she had waited an interminable amount of time for this day to come. Over twenty six years, if you want to be precisely accurate and incredibly perplexing about it. Pulling into the car park of St Thomas', Maggie's voice echoed softly in the safe vacuum of the vehicle.
"You alright, love?"
She was reassured by the term of endearment which was a characteristic part of Maggie's speech, and nodded in response, momentarily lost for words. It was as though she needed to save them up, being her strongest suit and form of defence.
"It feels…I was going to say 'unreal', but actually it's the opposite of that. It's like it's too real to be believable."
Out of the front window she could see people going to and fro, families and friends and dear ones with their own worlds being torn apart or slowly pieced back together. There was a tall man, his age impossible to tell given the distance, who held a little girl who looked to be around seven or eight, both of his arms grasping onto her tightly and protective. Her eyes followed them across the length of the car park until they got to the hospital doors, at which point the man gently put the girl down onto the ground on both of her feet, crouching to her height and placing a hand upon her cheek.
She turned to Maggie with a smile, seatbelt unclipped.
"Best not to keep him waiting."
Maggie smiled in response. "No. Never did 'ave much patience."
A young nurse who introduced herself as Cherry, and who was especially pleased to see Alex, met them as they got to the relevant floor and escorted them to Mr Gerrard's room. Alex liked the young woman immediately, sensed that she had a particular concern for Gene. She was aware that she might have been contextualising the situation from a very specific angle, but it gave her further reassurance all the same.
They were sitting for a few minutes before the consultant came into meet them, a slight shiver running through Alex as she saw him again. After the initial niceties he turned quickly grave and somewhat unreadable, which Alex regarded as the norm for senior medical professionals.
"I trust that you both received my briefing?"
"Yes," Alex answered, with Maggie saying the same seconds afterwards.
"Then you understand that this is a complex case. By any reasonable standards, Mr Hunt should not have survived. At this stage, more than three and a half years since the initial injury, and with the position we are at, survival may well be the best thing that can be expected."
The bluntness of his words, delivered in their matter-of-fact tone shocked Alex somewhat. It wasn't as though she was expecting anything miraculously positive, for Gene himself to come bolting through the door and shouting the odds, overruling them.
It was just that she had hoped for the outlook to be a bit brighter.
She found herself staring at Mr Gerrard, daring him not to be quite so dismissive.
"The report said that there had been some improvements in the last few months," Maggie intervened while Alex regained hold of her senses.
"There have been minimal improvements," the consultant replied, placing emphasis on the word minimal, "very small changes in reactions, but these have been sporadic, at best. I would classify it as being on the surface level of a minimally conscious state."
"Still, he is improving," Alex came in, clinging onto hope.
"I would be doing nobody any favours, least of all Mr Hunt, if I were to over-estimate the prognosis. I have to be honest in my assessment, and as things stand, with the slow rate of recovery – in some respects, regression in function – I cannot state with confidence that there will be much in the way of further improvement."
Alex felt as though the floor had opened beneath her, and that at any second she would plummet. Maggie had taken hold of her hand once Mr Gerrard had come to the end of that particular statement, helping to keep her afloat.
"Of course we are doing all that we can to keep the quality of life to a comfortable standard," he went on, "and I must say that it is admirable that you have intervened to support the patient. Especially in your case, Ms Drake, with your own personal experience."
At this turn in the conversation, she did not particularly care for Mr Gerrard's 'expert' opinion.
"I'd say that it puts me in a perfect position to empathise."
"Quite." He looked at her with what could only be described as a grimace, before looking down at his notes; somewhat superfluously, Alex thought. "I must preface that if that there is any progression in recovery, then it is quite likely to be slow. Perhaps even unrecognisable to the untrained eye."
Alex took this to be another slight, though she did not say as much.
"It will be a long road, and not without its pitfalls. I say that as to prepare you for what is ahead, if you decide that you wish to continue with the journey."
"We understand," Alex replied without hesitation, "and we have no intention of turning back."
From the side of her eye she could see that Maggie was restraining a smile in agreement.
"Very well," Mr Gerrard responded, flatly, consulting his desk once more. "I would advise that you go home first, steel yourself mentally before seeing the patient in person."
"If DCI Hunt's state is stable, then we would prefer to see him today," Alex said, staying firm to her conviction, "DS Hopcroft has to leave for Manchester tomorrow first thing, and she made the journey here especially."
That was a bending of the truth, but the consultant was not to know any different.
"I see. Well, I shall call for Nurse Williams to see that everything is so, and be with you both presently."
Maggie raised her eyes once Mr Gerrard had left the room. "Well, he's a bit of a – "
"Condescending prick?" Alex finished, causing Maggie to laugh.
"That's one way of puttin' it. If I didn't already see why he got on with you, then I'm convinced of it now."
Alex smiled, still unable to tell Maggie the truth, knowing that Gene was the only one who could understand.
"Talk about lookin' on the bleak side. I'm beginnin' to think that there's more to this than he's lettin' on, though I know it's not the time or the place."
"Maybe," Alex said, not really sure what she was thinking. She had something of a one-track mind at the moment. "As long as he doesn't come back with some half-baked excuse about why it's impossible to see him. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I've built myself up so much, that if we were turned away now, I don't know…of course I'd come back, but I just feel like I've been through the mill these last couple of weeks."
Before she could say anything more, Cherry – Nurse Williams - opened the door, smiling encouragingly.
"I can bring you through now."
They followed her out of the room and along to the HDU, Alex holding onto Maggie's hand for support. She hadn't given it too much consideration until now, still thinking of Gene in his '80s guise whenever she thought of him, with little other frame of reference to do otherwise. She had seen pictures of the real Gene when she had done her research, remembering the sensation of her heart feeling like it had stopped in her chest to behold how familiar he was. It was only now, steps away from the room, that she realised she hadn't mentally prepared herself for seeing him again.
For the first time.
Cherry was familiar, opening the door without preamble and going as far to announce to Gene that he had visitors. The optimism in her tone lifted Alex's spirits, which had been brought to near rock-bottom with all of Mr Gerrard's assertions.
She knew, realistically speaking, that she had to be cautious.
"There you go," Cherry said, stepping aside to allow Maggie and Alex to go forth, "it'll be such a good change for him to have some different faces, other than the same old same old."
Alex smiled weakly, aware that Nurse Williams was the spoonful of sugar to Mr Gerrard's mountains of salt.
"Go on, Alex, love," Maggie uttered, "you got the ball rolling 'ere. And I'm sure that he'll recognise you before he does me."
Maggie squeezed her hand as further encouragement. There was little getting away from it, the moment she had waited for for so long.
She stepped forward, inching closer to the bedside. A lump engulfed her throat as she took in the sight of him lying in the bed, looking as though he was sleeping, nothing more severe the matter. She studied his face when she was as close as she could get, looking down at all of the familiar features and the mane of hair that framed them.
"Gene," she said, just a little louder than a whisper, gaining no response. "It's DI Drake. Alex Drake," she correcting, thinking that the personal might have been preferable. "It's so good to see you again."
She stared down at him for what seemed like hours, Maggie joining her by her side and making her own greetings. Nurse Williams remained at the periphery of the room, the consciousness of the space just about registering with Alex. Thoughts, images and feelings floated over her, bringing her back to when she was in the same position. She was angry at herself for being selfish. She thought of him at the wheel of the Quattro, speeding through the city's streets, barking orders at her.
Everything felt too much suddenly, her various worlds colliding.
Maggie dipped in and out of speaking, Gene being still all the while. She wondered if this was a good idea, so soon, but the doubt slipped by in passing; nothing in comparison to the feeling of rightness that was sinking deep into her bones, strange but solid. Something that wasn't there so much for her to hold onto, but which held onto her.
She couldn't look away, was compelled by him. Real, here, not lost within the midsts of time. If he knew she was there, she didn't know. She considered reaching out to touch him so that he could be sure. She felt scared, as though he might disappear if she dared.
In the seconds that his eyes blinked open, it was as if everything stopped.
His name suspended on her lips.
She watched him, saw the blue eyes looking into her own. The moment possessed her, revealing itself as a miracle. A miracle that stopped short of going further.
Cherry reassured them that it was fine. Normal. He wasn't at the stage of verbal response yet, but this was good. A step forward, not back.
"The more sensory stimulation he receives, the better those chances are likely to be."
While she spoke with a far more confident air than Mr Gerrard, Alex heard the hesitation in the nurse's voice.
They stayed with him after he closed his eyes again, once more appearing as though he was going back into a peaceful sleep. Alex knew the opposite was probably true, not wanting to imagine what he was going through but finding it unavoidable. She just about registered Mr Gerrard meeting them once more and making the way down and out, only fully coming to her senses when they were back in Maggie's car. Even then, she felt raw at the edges.
It was a lot to take in. She listened to Maggie; recognised the shock and despair, as well as the hope. She couldn't put her feelings into words to offer an adequate response, not for the time being.
"You're very brave, love." Maggie's words resonated through her, jolting her into the present. There was nothing patronising in the least in her tone, just honesty. "I don't know if I could do it, or could 'ave done."
"I can't leave him," she heard herself say, everything feeling slightly delayed, "not now."
Not after everything.
Maggie nodded, the silence lying like comfort between them.
"I hope you don't mind me askin', and you can tell me to poke my nose out."
Alex wore a shadow of a smile by way of response, anticipating what Maggie was about to ask.
"It was my fault," she began, "or, not fault exactly…I always considered it to be impossible. Too much at stake. We had a connection, the timing was just never right."
She thought of everything they had in the in-between, knowing all the while that it was fragile. She was glad that she hadn't known when it would have come to an end; there was a freedom in it, something that was always so elusive to her in the real world.
"You know, I've always believed if something's meant to 'appen, then it'll find a way."
The tears were still pricking at her eyes, though by some mystery none had fallen. She looked at Maggie, who was so no-nonsense and strong, faith having no better champion.
"He's lucky to have you," she added, her hands firm upon the steering wheel, "and I'm willin' to bet that he'll be tellin' you before too long."
That was something that felt light years ahead. But she wasn't about to argue with Maggie, of all people. Not to mention that she believed in Gene, however rough the road ahead was.
"There's a first time for everything, I suppose."
She didn't need to wait long for Molly and Evan to return home, having been mindlessly watching something on the TV when she heard the door opening. Her heart lifted to see her daughter, the novelty not having worn off. She didn't say anything but opened her arms, Molly taking the hint and wrapping her own around her for a hug. Alex held her tight for nearly a minute, cradling a hand against her soft hair, letting everything else drift away.
"Mum?" Molly uttered, looking up at her when she relaxed her grip.
"School was okay?"
"Yeah," she answered. Alex could see the worry in her daughter's eyes, feeling then the sharp sensation – and not for the first time since she had come home – that their roles had reversed.
"Good. You go and change and chill out." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I'll tell you later on, okay?"
Molly nodded, not asking anything more. Alex smiled, cupping her hands at her daughter's face and kissing the top of her head before letting her head up the stairs.
Evan was staring at her, making her feel somewhat unnerved.
"I've been trying to call you since midday," was the first thing he said.
"I'd switched my phone off and didn't think to put it back on. Sorry." She added the apology as something of an afterthought, though she was genuine and it hadn't been an intention to make him worry. Some days it seemed like that was the only thing she was capable of doing, at least when it came to Evan.
"Well, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer. They've set a trial date for Layton. 5th January."
She knew it was inevitable at some point, but the confirmation hit her for six all the same.
"Happy New Year to me," she replied, sounding more flippant than she meant to.
"I very much hope that it will be."
He was looking at her intensely, a little strangely. Perhaps he had been expecting her to start doing cartwheels at the announcement, when her predominant emotion was dread.
"This is good news," he continued, hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes as casual as anything, "much better than waiting any longer. There's been plenty of time to build a case against him and, if anything, it shows confidence of a conviction not to have it delayed."
"Well, I'd like to enjoy Christmas first. I didn't think I'd make it this far, so it would be nice to have a peaceful one."
Not much chance of that, with the thought of Layton looming ever nearer.
"Alex?"
"Oh, I just meant those first few days and weeks. I wasn't sure that something wouldn't go wrong."
Something that she should save for the psychotherapist, she hadn't meant for it to slip out. The day had left her feeling unguarded and vulnerable, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the sofa, or better still, curl up in a ball underneath the bedcovers. Instead, Evan wanted to keep to the subject at hand, theorizing about the possible arguments of defence and how swiftly they could be overruled by the prosecution.
Not only was it not the lightest of conversation, she couldn't see much point in turning it all over.
"You didn't ask me how it was," she said as she flicked the switch on the kettle.
"How what – oh, yes," he responded before she had the chance to erupt. "How was it?"
His interest would have been more believable if she hadn't had to instigate it. She supposed she couldn't have expected him to be overly invested in Gene, but he had always had empathy at a human level; plus, there was his concern for her, which in all other areas had become close to being unbearable.
"Overwhelming, really. Positive, I think. That is, he's on an even keel. And just to see him was…a lot to deal with. In a good way, though."
He mumbled a 'hmm' in reply, checking his phone before expanding. "That's good news. And this Mandy – "
"Maggie."
"Sorry, Maggie. I take it she will be bearing the brunt."
She stared at him, not impressed with his turn of phrase.
"What I mean is, she knows him, so she's best placed to act as a support and to assess whether things are going well. If they continue to do so."
"Yes, Maggie will keep visiting." He looked visibly relieved, even happy, for a moment. "And so will I."
She widened her eyes as he looked blank-faced at her, apparently lost for words – or otherwise not wanting to divulge what he really thought, having a sudden attack of conscience.
"Well, for a time, I don't suppose there's much harm in it." He spoke as if to someone else, a teacher or doctor. "But when the trial starts…it will be a lot, I can't sugar-coat it. I'm more than certain it will go in our favour, but you're still going to need strength."
"There's no reason why I can't do both." She wasn't going to accept any argument to the contrary.
"Days in court are long. I don't need to tell you that."
"You don't," she said, keeping her voice as calm as she could. "I'm not saying that I'll visit every day, but most. As often as I can."
Internally, she debated the need for her to be at the trial every day. It felt rather sadistic in the circumstances.
"I don't think this is a good idea. Not when it comes to your wellbeing."
And having to sit metres away from the man who believed he had killed me will do wonders for that.
"I want to do this," she affirmed. "Perhaps the timing isn't ideal, but that's not exactly something that I can control."
"Of course," he said after a few moments, apparently attempting to digest what she had said. Even if he had said anything different on the matter she was going to do nothing other than remain firm.
Minutes passed in silence, her thoughts going back to Gene. She hadn't thought of much else ever since coming from the hospital a couple of hours previous.
"Like you say," Evan began, "best to look forward to Christmas first. Molls is already excited, you know how she is."
At least some things always remained the same, which was a blessing.
The weeks went faster than she expected them to. She was determined to make the holidays as special as possible for Molly, especially when she thought about how close she had come to not being here to see it. They went to see the lights in Covent Garden and Oxford Street, and visited the Christmas markets one Sunday. She had to draw the line at ice-skating, and Molly didn't fancy doing it on her own, but it was something to look forward to for next year, all being well. They decorated the house earlier than usual and watched all of the cheesy Christmas films, one every evening, sometimes repeating showings of a weekend if Alex had fallen asleep. It was a real benefit of having the time away from work, being able to do all of these things with Molly and taking the time to appreciate how much she really enjoyed it all. It was something she'd lost in the last few years and she wouldn't take it for granted any more.
She was frequently on the phone to Maggie, and saw her at least twice a week – once on their own and once when they would visit Gene together. Maggie had stayed in London with her family since coming down for the initial trip to the hospital and would return to Manchester in the New Year – just in time for the trial to start, though it was too much to expect that she could be on hand all of the time; she did have her own life to lead, after all. She said that she'd come back as often as she could and Alex was grateful for that. I reckon you won't need me before too long, she said when they left the hospital precisely one week before Christmas Day. Alex had smiled, wishing that she shared Maggie's optimistic outlook.
Gene remained much the same every time she went to see him, which was usually every other day. Sometimes he would 'wake', be alert; others he appeared to be unresponsive, though Cherry always reassured her that that wasn't the case and that he was taking everything in, as far as she could be aware. Alex got to know the young nurse well over the weeks and they'd often chat away, Cherry keen to point out that Gene would be listening – which Alex was only half certain about, while also being self-conscious of how much she revealed. On one occasion he had made a few grunts and groans, which had raised her hopes that he might say something. She reminded herself quickly that these were basic responses, and hoping for anything more was perhaps a miracle too far for the time being.
The most important thing was that he was alive, and she was there with him.
The last time she visited before Christmas was early on Christmas Eve. She told him all about her plans for the day with Molly, confiding in him about what she was going to be finding beneath the tree the next morning. It had been a few years since Molly had believed in Father Christmas, so it wasn't as though she was really spoiling anything. She had bought him a couple of presents too, which were perhaps a little silly but she hadn't been able to resist, and especially when she had seen the miniature replica of the Quattro in a charity shop. She left it along with the Rubik's cube at his bedside, giving the latter a couple of twists to get it started.
Before she went she brushed her fingers over the top of his hand, her heart catching in her throat when she noticed his eyes looking up at her.
"Merry Christmas, Gene," she had uttered softly. "I'll be back before the New Year. We can't pass up the opportunity to celebrate, even if it is completely overrated."
She could always talk to Molly, too. She never hid anything from her, and that included what was happening with Gene. Indeed, Gene had become something of a figure of fascination to Molly ever since Alex had first told her about him.
"When are you going to visit next?"
They were sitting on the sofa after watching Love Actually with just the glow of the lights from the tree illuminating the room aside from the TV.
"Probably the day after Boxing Day."
"Can I come, too?"
"Oh, Molls. I wish I could say yes, but I'm not sure that it's the best idea at the moment."
"If you're worried that I'm going to be upset, then you underestimate me."
"I know you're made of tough stuff." You've had to be, she thought with a stinging in her heart. "Let's wait a few weeks. I promise that's not an excuse."
"Shake on it?" Molly asked.
Alex thought for a second, but knew she couldn't go back on her word.
"It's a deal." Judging by the smile that filled her face it was an exciting prospect for her daughter. "Evan's not going to be very happy with me."
"Stuff what Evan thinks."
"I suppose you don't want the iPod he got you, then."
"No, I never said that." She picked it up from where it sat out of its box beneath the tree, cradling it to her chest to make her point. "I don't understand why he has to be so weird about it."
"Me neither. But I suppose he's worried about me. That I'll end up wearing myself out seeing Gene as well as dealing with the trial. Or in the long run that I'll end up depressed and regretting my choices."
Molly considered those arguments for a while, her face thoughtful against the soft twinkling of the fairy lights.
"What do you think? Am I doing the right thing?"
She pondered for a few seconds more, before nodding her head and replying, "Yes. And I don't think you'll regret anything either. Not in the end."
"With a bit of luck, hey?"
"I just want you to be happy, Mum."
She could feel the tears coming up. "I'm happy whenever I'm with you, so I'm sorted."
Molly raised her eyebrows as if to say that's not what I mean, Mum. She pulled her in for a hug, not able to think that far ahead right now.
She'd settle for a happy start to the year to begin with, and one which was significantly quieter than the last.
Beforehand, she considered what it would be like to see Arthur Layton again. She wanted the chance to look him in the eye, without a gun being pointed at her head. She wanted to ask why, past the obvious.
Anger pulsed in every nerve and fibre, mixed with deep, heart-shattering sorrow. She wanted justice, not only for herself but for her mother too.
She was grateful to him for doing it, knowing how it had absolved years worth of pain, to some degree.
For allowing her to meet Gene, even in the worst of circumstances.
Fear that was paralysing, on the account that his story should be believed and she should live the rest of her life dreading every moment, being certain that if he couldn't get to her then he would take Molly. Perhaps both of them.
The one thing she didn't expect to feel was pity, but that was what struck her when she sat in the courtroom, Evan at her side. Layton looked as though he had aged ten years in the last six months. Maybe she had remembered him differently. How empty would a life have to be if you spent it on a quest to take another? She looked into his eyes and noticed that he seemed to stare straight through her. He must feel some remorse, she thought. The first day dragged on, leaving her mentally depleted at the end of it.
Evan treated her as if she were eight years old again, as though the bomb had just gone off every day. She spent the majority of her waking hours in court or at the hospital, and when she wasn't at either place she slept, and ate just enough to get by. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, made her feel weightless. She dreamt of the point where all of the worlds that she had occupied in the last few months collided, reliving it in a million different ways.
The weekends went by too fast and she felt guilty that she couldn't give Molly enough of her energy, although Molly didn't complain. Their days out were more like hours, but she cherished them all the more. They met up with Maggie one Sunday for a proper roast dinner and a stroll along the South Bank; Molly thought Maggie was so cool, and even started talking with her best Manchester-tinged accent, slipping into it like a favourite coat, apparently unconsciously.
What she wouldn't give to hear Gene's voice again.
She read every article that she could find on prolonged coma and subsequent impact upon the brain, undeterred by the lack of cases with positive outcomes. She just needed to keep believing that the odds could be defied, and that if anyone was going to do it...
As the trial was nearing its end she increased her visits to the hospital to daily ones, even when circumstances meant she could only be there for fifteen minutes at a time. In the lack of knowing how much her presence really impacted upon Gene she thought of visiting as somewhat selfish, framing it in terms of her own benefit. She took her place at his bedside faithfully; wishing that she could have more faith in his improvement. Sometimes it unsettled her to see him so still, when she had been used to him being such a force of nature, not stopping for anyone.
Maybe for her, when the occasion allowed.
Her voice sounded so loud in the room that evening, making her flinch slightly.
"I don't know," she spoke aloud, to him as he listened. Or half of her believed that he was listening, anyway. "These three weeks have been like a blur. It doesn't feel like I've really been there, watching any of it. It's hard to describe to anyone who doesn't know, even when they try so hard to pretend that they do. God, sometimes I think that Evan's going to explode with the effort of empathising."
You would know, she thinks. It hurts so much at that precise moment to look at him lying there, not having a sarcastic reply which masked something deeper.
"I feel…numb, sometimes. Hollow. I hate myself for it. For feeling that way when I'm with my daughter, when I love her so much. More than I could ever love myself. And it's only my fault. Wanting…I don't even really know what."
She wondered if Sam felt this way, whether that's why he ran headfirst. Not to escape, but to discover.
"But then, these past weeks I've felt every emotion going. I'm so tired, and part of me also wants to keep it going, because I'm afraid that when it stops…I won't know what to do. Other than to see you, of course."
In a way, her whole life had felt like a suspension. Always waiting for something. That was the way for some people, she supposed. On the precipice, unable to make the leap.
She'd been doing everything to keep it together since the beginning, and now that there was but one day left – the final verdict, at least she hoped – around the corner, she could feel what was left disintegrating with each second that passed.
"I'm scared, Gene."
She couldn't admit the truth to anyone else. Perhaps it felt safer that she didn't expect a response from him, made the unburdening easier.
"Not just for the outcome, but of what will come after. That I'll always feel like this." She could feel herself starting to give way, the break in her throat. "And nothing will ever feel right."
Everything rushed towards her in that moment, and she closed her eyes to stop it somehow. As she did so she could see the bullet hurtling towards her, repeatedly, as though it was about to seal her fate regardless of anything else she did to get away from it.
"Bols…"
For a minute, maybe more, she thought she was hearing things. It wouldn't have been a stretch too far given her state of mind.
She looked down at him and saw that his eyes were open, so striking in their shade of blue. He was staring at her, his gaze fixed firmly upon her face.
"Bols," he repeated. His voice was hoarse, much reedier than normal. At least than she was used to.
In those wonderful moments she was struck by many things. That in those two simple syllables she could hear his accent clearly, and that as well as resembling the Gene she knew he sounded like him too.
The fact that he had said something, though it had taken several months, meant that he was improving, despite all of the assumptions that had been made firmly to the contrary.
Most wonderful of all was that he recognised her.
"Gene."
She uttered his name little above a whisper, feeling astounded by what had happened, her eyes pinned to him. Within her a whirlwind had been set in motion. She reached out her hand towards his without thinking about what she was doing.
When he curled his fingers around hers seconds later it was as if the entire universe had stopped.
Somehow she didn't cry, and she was glad of the fact; this was a moment for celebration.
Neither was the significance lost on her, at a time when she had allowed herself to be completely vulnerable, admitting to her fear without excuses.
You were there whenever I needed you.
The next day she walked from the court having held onto the high of Gene saying her name – one of the names he had given her, which she had been especially pleased about in retrospect. She had been propelled further by the verdict that had been given unanimously; Arthur Layton was found guilty of attempted murder, with a minimum sentencing of thirty years imprisonment. On top of that the judge announced his intention to reexamine the case of Caroline and Tim Price, given the evidence that had emerged during the trial which could no longer go uncontested.
There had been flashes of cameras and many words of congratulations offered to her in the rather overcast light of day. The lead for the prosecution delivered a statement on her behalf, though she stood with Evan to hear it being read. The last six months of her life being laid to rest, with the expectation of so much more of her history soon to follow. There were several offers to join 'celebrations' at a nearby bar afterwards but she politely declined, not having to make any exaggeration when she said that the proceedings had left her really quite exhausted. She wanted to share the news with those closest to her – Molly, Maggie and Gene – but otherwise all else she wanted was a long bath and an even longer sleep.
Evan drove her back to the house and then announced that he was going to go to the supermarket to stock the cupboards, as well as get something special for dinner that evening. She really didn't have much of an appetite. Would it be out of line to pick up something bubbly? he had asked, and she had given a smile in answer.
Once he had left she made her way upstairs in slow motion, intending to run that bath. She just about got to the landing when she burst into a flood of tears, the weeks and months that had passed finally taking their toll. The release was not particularly painful, not compared to everything else that had occurred, but she found herself collapsing to her knees and above all relieved that neither Evan nor Molly was around to witness what she had been unable to stop. The tears continued while she took the bath, absorbed by steam, and while she curled beneath the sheets, petering out into sobs as she lay her head upon the pillow.
A few hours later she was woken up by her daughter, and then she had no reason not to smile as Molly wrapped her arms around her, burrowing her face against her shoulder.
The nightmares were over, as was the state of being in limbo. Whatever came next, it was going to be life; something which, despite being alive, had been out of reach these last few months.
The tulips she had brought earlier in the week were starting to reveal themselves, which made her smile. They'd been something of an impulse buy and because they had been on a special offer she'd bought enough to bring back to the house, too. She wasn't entirely sure what Gene would make of them – most likely he'd denounce them as being girly or poofy – but she also liked to think that he wouldn't object to them cheering up the otherwise non-descript room.
It was smaller than the one on the HDU, though not too far away. She told herself that his being moved was because of the progress he had made since he had spoken to her, even if it hadn't gone past the utterance of Bols or Bolly, and not due to the fact that HDU beds were in such high demand. Cherry still paid her visits, with Alex always being happy to see her; she suspected that Gene was a favourite of the young nurse and Alex was indebted to the care that had been shown by her, being convinced that it had played an integral part in his recovery thus far.
She repeated to Cherry everything that she had already told to Gene, being assured that she was interested. At the end of the month she was going to go back to work but at a very gradual return; she would work two days a week, assisting on an agreed number of cases from a psychological perspective. She might take on more eventually, but right now she was happy with the deal that had been arranged. The best thing about it was that it gave her additional time to be with Molly, which is what she had relished the most in the time since she had recovered. Molly was at the age when she would need her support the most, even if her daughter had inherited her independent spirit and liked to believe that she was absolutely fine dealing with the world at large. Since before the trial there had been rumours going around Molly's school, and though they had come to nothing, Alex was determined to be there to dedicate the time to her daughter for whatever she needed.
It had been a second chance – one which she shouldn't have had to take advantage of, but which she would refuse not to acknowledge.
Evan was going to move out of the spare room and the house altogether too, the week before she was due back. She had been glad for his support, as overbearing as it had felt at times, but she was also looking forward to having the house for just her and Molly again. It was as though the extra space was giving her more space to breathe too, which was what she had been after for months.
Everything was looking up, she was very pleased to report.
Well, let's hope it's going to continue, Cherry had said, with a very obvious nod towards Gene. Alex had replied with a smile. While she hoped so too, she didn't want to labour the point, just in case. Slow steps forward were steps forward all the same and did not merit being diminished. She didn't know exactly why but ever since he had come out of the HDU he looked fresher, like he had been given a new lease of life.
She was going to remain optimistic but realistic, as Evan had once said. It didn't matter how long the road was, or even if there were blocks along the way; she would be there for it all.
Along with Molly, he was the main focus of her life.
She looked at him fondly as she opened the book she had retrieved from her bag, it being just the two of them again. She started off by reading to herself, then a rather obvious thought occurred to her. Several parts of the brain are stimulated by hearing the human voice. As such, she began to read aloud from the pages, feeling glad that she had a crime thriller with her and not something decidedly more girly. The tulips were probably pushing the limits where that was concerned.
She'd got near the end of the first chapter when she heard a murmur of "Bolly." A smile pulled at the corners of her lips, as it always did when she heard the nickname come from her.
Today, however, it was followed quite distinctly by "Alex."
Feeling as though several shocks of electricity had been sent to her heart, she leaned forward in her seat, seeing him turn his head towards her.
"Always goin' on…"
The effort was evident in his voice but it didn't deter him.
"Where did you…looked everywhere."
She had been so stunned she hadn't thought to reply, could only look into his eyes for the immediate moments that followed.
"I'm here now," she said, doing what she could to keep a cover on her joy, "and I'm not going anywhere."
It took him a few minutes to answer, though he didn't need to; as far as she was concerned, he had made several leaps forward in the space of a couple of minutes.
"Good," he said, his voice though still faint sounding stronger to Alex's ears. He reached his arm out towards her too, and she was compelled to take his hand, feeling sure that she could see his mouth moving into a smile. "You and me."
"Yes," she replied, with tears brimming in her eyes, "we're a team."
In whatever time or dimension, a fact and fabric of the universe.
Something that could never be denied.
A/N: Tell Me When performed by The Human League and written by Philip Oakey and Paul Christopher Beckett.