So I'm really sorry about the long delay, my life got somewhat hectic recently. This chapter is dedicated to Jazzola, who has the patience of a saint and very kindly gave me a shove up the bum to carry on with this. Enjoy :)

Earlier that day

As far as Gene was concerned, he was having the best night of his life. Yeah sure, his back was killing him and he was as cold as ice; but just to hear Alex call his name like that, the relief evident in her voice, was totally worth it. He had waltzed into Luigi's after a hard day's work catching scum, then she'd came out of nowhere and fallen into his arms. He'd relished it; then the next thing he knew, they had ended up in her flat and on her floor. Which is why he was aching now.

However, as he started coming into consciousness he realised that he was most definitely alone. His eyes shot open and his mouth ready with an insult, when he realised he wasn't even in her flat. It all came flooding back to him, and he couldn't say that he wasn't devastated.

'Alex? Is that the name of your tart?' came a sneering voice in the distance.

'Good morning to you too, Barry.' Gene replied; sarcasm dripping from every word as he shuffled backwards into a sitting position, making the dust fly up and form a heavy cloud. He silently rejoiced that his hands were no longer chained to the wall, but simply cuffed behind his back. The feeling of blood rushing towards them and the subsequent pins and needles he felt, confirming this.

'What can I do for you this fine morning?' Gene continued, the dust cloud making his voice a little husky. He knew that he would probably regret using sarcasm later but he relished it all the same.

Barry stood up and spat at Gene's feet.

'We're moving today, but I doubt you'll have time to settle in.' Barry sneered as he turned and left.

Gene shrugged him off and explored his new found freedom, finding out what his new boundaries were and how he could work around them.

He managed to fight his way to his feet; slightly out of breath but fairly steady considering he hadn't eaten for a few days. He surveyed his surroundings; once he'd established where the door was, he carefully walked over to it, making sure not to trip over his own feet in the process. He turned his back to the door and quietly felt around for the handle. As soon as cold brass touched his fingertips, his face split into a wide grin. He grasped the handle and pushed down until it would go no further then stepped forward, pulling the door with him. He let go and turned around, gently pushing the door open with his foot. He silently crept up the stairs, wincing slightly when a few steps creaked. He placed his head at the crack in the door and watched as Pam flounced out through the front door leaving Barry somewhere in the vicinity. Gene held his breath and stepped back into the darkness as Barry walked across to the front door and turned the lock, muttering about how useless Pam was. Gene once again stepped forward and peered at Barry, watching and waiting. Barry was still stood by the door, muttering about Pam to himself when Gene pounced. He pushed Barry into the door, vaguely hearing a thud as the other man's skull hit the wood, and frantically looked around for some keys to let himself out of both the cuffs and the house.

Growing impatient, he skulked off to the kitchen to find anything that could help him in at least one of his two objectives. He silently rejoiced as he spotted a mislaid hair grip on the kitchen work surface and thanked Pam for her uselessness. He spun round to pick it up and bent it so he could use it. After a few minutes of trying, and with his tongue stuck out in concentration, he was finally able to free his wrists. He rubbed them, allowing the blood to flow through freely again, and set off in search of an answer to his second objective. Now finally able to use his hands, Gene walked up to Barry and pushed him onto his side, not flinching when Barry's head hit the floor or at the sight of his blood starting to pool around him.

Gene knelt next to his attacker's limp unconscious body and began patting him down. Feeling for lumps in any visible or concealed pockets, he pulled out anything he found. Tissues and sweet wrappers were thrown to the side but any money or the blessing that was cigarettes, he pocketed without second thought.

His patience was wearing very thin with the whole entire situation that he had managed to get himself caught up in, and he let out a growl of frustration shattering the calmness that had washed itself over the scenario.

Finally losing his patience, he thrust his hand into the final pocket and grasped everything that was in there. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at yet another used tissue and threw it over his shoulder; he lifted his head as he heard the noise of something hitting the floor. He spun around on his knees and frantically sifted through all the rubbish left on the floor. Tissues and sweet wrappers were once again thrown to the side, until Gene's fingers skimmed over cold metal. His hands searched for the metal object again, zoning in on it as if they were metal detectors. As soon as he touched the cool metal he grabbed it and held it up to the light to get a good look, almost as if he were worshipping it.

He jumped to his feet, ignoring his bones and muscles screaming in protest, and tried the key in the front door. The comedown from the ecstasy he was feeling mere moments earlier was unbearable and the reality of him possibly being stuck here until someone came, most likely the daft mare that was Pam, and he would once again have to fight his way past them came crashing down.

Gene turned and leant his back against the door and stared through to the kitchen. He was missing something; it was staring him in the face but for the life of him, he couldn't think what it was.

Something inside his head was telling him to go into the kitchen; repeating over and over, like a mantra. Without thinking, he obeyed and retraced his steps from earlier. He scanned the table, the worktops and the sink area but nothing jumped out at him. He scanned the walls for some form of inspiration but nothing came. Until of course, his eyes wandered over to the door that led out to the garden.

He admonished himself for his own stupidity and walked over to the door. His grip on the key tightening with every step. He slid the key into the lock, thanking a higher power when it fit. He almost fell to his knees and wept when he turned it and he heard the soft 'click' of the door becoming unlocked. He bolted through the door and into the garden, skidding in the muddy grass due to his haste. He maintained his balance and headed for the garden fence. Placing his hands on the top he hoisted himself up, using his feet against the fence to give him the extra leverage needed; he pulled himself to the top of the fence and over the other side to freedom.

Gene didn't know how long he had walked the streets and he didn't care, he'd escaped and that was all that mattered. He crossed a road and spotted something of a familiar sight. He jogged over to the building, smiling all the way, and pushed the door open so he could enter.

'Gerroff me you fat twat!' Gene slurred as he pushed the man away, almost falling over himself in the process.

'That's it! I've had enough of you for tonight, I'm calling the police.' Boomed the owner.

'Go ahead! And when you do, ask for DI Drake! Tell her it's about time she got her bony arse here!'

Alex was still staring at the fence when a PC approached her.

'Ma'am there's been a call about a disturbance at a pub.'

'So, why are you telling me? I'm trying to find Gene, not break up a drunken brawl.'

'Well they asked for you personally ma'am.'

'What?'

'And they said that you should' he cleared his throat out of embarrassment 'that you should get your bony arse down there.'

'Gene?' she whispered, so lost in her thoughts that he was alive that she forgot about the PC.

'Ma'am? Shall I send some local plods instead?'

'What? No its fine, where is it?'

'It's at the Queen's tavern ma'am.' The perplexed look on Alex's face made him continue. 'It's a gay pub ma'am.' He reddened and hoped Alex wouldn't ask him how he knew what type of pub it was.

Alex faced the PC and growled 'the type of pub it is goes no further then you and me. Understand?' the PC frantically nodded, silently thankful, and watched as Alex swooped through the house. So intent on finding Gene, that she ignored every other person and stormed out of the crime scene. The sound of screeching tyres being the only indication that she had left.