Alex fought to retain control of her self now he was beside her. Had she summoned him up by her thoughts? What was she in control of here anyway? She could bring Shaz back from the dead, but, try as she might, she couldn't second guess this bear of a man. He was waiting for a response. What the hell was he doing here anyway? After what she'd done to him, after her angry push at the end of yesterday. What would it take to push him too far? Do you really want to find out, Alex?
She suddenly knew she didn't. Something inside her, however much her rational sense disagreed, trusted him. She heard him apologize and the jumble in her mind became resolve. If Evan was the safety of home, maybe Gene was the safety of this place. She turned to him and took hold of his hand. It was a conciliatory gesture, but he flinched like she'd moved to slap him. She laughed in gentle mockery and kept his hand in hers.
"Gene, I'm not going to fight you." She was smiling and she bent her head coquettishly to the side as she saw his eyes narrow. He still looked ready to defend himself from a punch, but his hand stayed in hers, and even returned the slight pressure.
"'Scuse me if I don't underestimate your ability to clock me one." He said ruefully, rubbing his chin to remind her that she had already given him plenty of reasons to take a step back when she got angry. She was still smiling as she acknowledged what he meant.
"Ah. Yes."
"Too bloody right, yes. Anyway, 'ow are you? Bit of a mess to clear up today." His tone was light, but the intensity in his eyes let her know he knew exactly what was wrong with what he done.
She put her other hand over the hand she still grasped and nodded. What could she say? He had made some spectacularly bad decisions, however right his gut had been. But he was here, now, with a reticent Gene Hunt apology, another kick to his own pride. Why had he even let her do any of it in the first place? She had ended fighting him in the end, like always, but she hadn't wanted to. Even when she went over his head, he had barely seemed to growl at her.
She realized she was still holding his hand, and she wasn't doing it for him now. She was holding on to safety, to a feeling so, so deep, it felt like a memory.
"It's done. Doesn't matter anymore. I'm going home soon, and it will all just be memories." She noticed he was looking down at their hands, and the slight nervousness in his demeanour evaporated, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand.
"Don't have to go yet, I've only just got here." He said firmly, taking a hefty mouthful of wine.
Seconds away from death, she thought, and I really think this is a good place to be. It suddenly occurred to her that it might already be too late anyway.
"Good god, Bolly, you trying to cut it off?" Hunt said as she had dug her nails into his hand, unconsciously, in horror at the thought that this was all just a futile illusion, just a stopover on the way into forever darkness.
She shook her head slightly and looked at him. She couldn't make out what was behind his expression, but she let go of his hand and looked back down at her own. What if she was dead already? Why did she think there was anything she could really change here? What would she do now if these events were just a last burst of neurons, meaningless to her recovery? If Molly were already lost to her, where would she choose to spend her last seconds? Everything was about to go black, just one last view of her own mother's death to cut into her soul before it was gone.
Would she be betraying her mother if she didn't try to save her in her memories? Betraying Molly by not fighting an imaginary war in her dying second? She was sobbing now, feeling as alone as she likely was on that cold boat, icy and damn near lifeless.
"You want soul, I'll give you soul."
And there was that memory again, warm safety in spite of losing everything. Hunt had taken her hands again, not just in a token of peace now, but a firm strong grasp of protection, both hands pulled up to his chest, and the other hand pulling her fully to him. She could feel the press of his lips on the top of her head, and oh god, if this was where she had to die, bring it on. She could almost believe he could fight it away for her.
"Gene, take me upstairs." She said, looking up at him, her heart despairing and hoping all at the same time.
