"Bolly. Wake up Bolls. Come on, love. Wake up."

Rising to consciousness, Alex identified the quiet voice and blinked open her eyes. "Guv."

He exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on her hand. Shaz had told him she'd come round from the coma, that she'd been asking for him, but he hadn't been able to believe it until he's seen her open her eyes. "Back in the land of the living, then?"

She took a deep breath, taking a long look at her surroundings. Definitely the same 1982 hospital bed. "Think so."

She felt him ease his hold on her hand but closed her fingers around his before he could let go completely. He looked down at their joined hands and swallowed, wondering how to begin. Prioritise, Hunt. You'll be no good to anyone if you're under suspicion of attempted murder. Start there.

"I need your help, Bolly."

She blinked. "What's wrong?"

"Well. The thing is. Do you know what happened? Why you're here?"

"I was shot. Coma. Awake now, better."

"Yes. And you remember who shot you?" He couldn't meet her eye, didn't think he'd like what he'd see there.

"You shot me, Guv."

"I did," he mumbled. "I did shoot you. But they think… They think that I did it on purpose. That I tried to kill you."

"That's ridiculous. Why would they think that?" Tell me, Gene. Talk to me.

He shifted awkwardly in his chair. "No one else saw what happened. Well, apart from Jenette. And she's gone to ground, no one can find her."

"Even so."

Sighing, he caught her gaze briefly before looking away again. "There was that argument. The night before the heist. I shouted at you, said if you got in my way I'd kill you. Everyone heard."

"But Gene… They must know you'd never deliberately hurt me? Not physically."

He winced. Perhaps he deserved that. "Seems they don't, Bolls. Doesn't help that there appears to be no record of your dead mate, that Boris Johnson. Doesn't look good that I shot both of you. You need to tell them it was an accident. Otherwise I'm sunk, Bolly. They'll have me out faster than you can say dismissed without pension."

"Of course. Whatever I can do."

"Give a statement to a DCI Ward in Central & West station. Shaz'll give you the details. She's waiting outside now, making sure no one sees me here. I shouldn't be talking to you, might look like I was trying to pressurise you. But I just… well, I had to see you, Bolls."

Smiling, she managed a small nod. "It's all going to be fine, Gene," she murmured. "I'll speak to this Ward character, tell him everything that happened. You'll be free and clear. Please don't worry."

He nearly laughed at that. He'd done nothing but worry since he'd seen the bloom of blood on the inside of her leather jacket. Worry about what the team would think about him. Worry about the investigation into the shooting, what it would mean for his career. But mostly he'd just worried about her. How he'd deal with it if she never woke up. The fear of the future without her in it. The guilt. The unmitigated, unending, corrosive fucking anger. He frowned. "I'll stop worrying when I get my bloody desk back. Get to it, Inspector."

She squeezed his fingers. "I'm sorry this mess got you into such trouble, Gene. I know I shouldn't even have been there but I had to. You see I –"

"Guv. Ma'am. Nurse is on her way back." Shaz's worried face peered around the door, looking at Gene.

"Okay, Shaz. I'm off now. Look after her." He stood quickly, pausing at the door to look back at Alex before slipping past Shaz and away.

Alex took a deep breath as she Shaz hovered anxiously at the door. "Come in," Alex invited, waving a hand at the chair.

"You're sure you're feeling better, Ma'am?" asked Shaz, settling herself at Alex's bedside while the nurse bustled in and carried out the routine checks.

"Much better, thanks." The nurse scribbled results on the chart at the foot of the bed and departed quickly. "They tell me I'm lucky. Heading for a miraculous recovery. Can't say I feel particularly lucky."

"You look well. You know, considering."

"Thanks, Shaz."

"And the Guv looks a bit happier now."

"He should. I'm going to give a statement about the shooting being accidental. He'll be off the hook and back to bothering you lot again before you know it."

"I'm sure that'll be a relief. But it's not been the only thing on his mind while you've been in here, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Ma'am," Shaz admonished. "You were very badly hurt. Looked bad for a while, we didn't know if you'd make it. You should have seen the Guv. He was bent out of shape with worrying about you."

"Well," Alex countered lightly, "it would have made the case against him worse if I hadn't pulled through. Murder is always worse than attempted murder."

"You don't really believe that, do you Ma'am? You and the Guv have always seemed so close. I know the two of you argued that night but…" She trailed off, uncertain.

Alex sighed. "We did. We did argue. Said things we shouldn't have. Things you can't un-say."

"Everyone was under a lot of stress that night, Ma'am. And the two of you fight all the time. Surely you can get over it, whatever it is?"

Picking at the hem of her sheet, Alex gave a small shrug. "Not sure this time, Shaz. He wanted something from me, something important. It was hard for him to ask for and I wanted to give it to him, more than anything, but he misunderstood, thought I didn't care. Now it's all gone to shit and I don't know if we'll ever get back to where we were."

Shaz sent a worried glance in Alex's direction. "It's not too late though, is it? You could still give him this important thing that he wants?"

"I don't know, Shaz," Alex replied sadly. "I hope so. But I really don't know."

~ x o x ~

Much to her frustration, Alex wasn't allowed to give her statement to DCI Ward until her the doctors gave her a reasonably clear bill of health. By the time she was permitted to see him she was climbing the walls, desperate to get out of her hospital bed, desperate to see Gene again. She could see everything so much more clearly now, could understand how her answers would have led Gene to believe that she didn't care about him. And she'd learned that she did care. The thought of leaving him stranded in 1982, unable to clear his name, never seeing him again, chewed away at her insides like a physical pain. She wanted things back the way they were before, on the cusp of something truly wonderful, not staring at each other with suspicion and resentment.

Thoughts of Gene competed with those of Molly. The week of waiting in the hospital had given her more time than she wanted to think about her daughter and the tantalising glimpse she'd been given of the return to 2008. She knew now that the whole awakening was just another vision, no more real than her existence in the 1980s, maybe even less so. But it didn't help diminish the guilt, the cruel feeling that she'd been so close and had chosen to walk away.

Eventually DCI Ward was allowed in to see her and he took her statement without much enthusiasm. She sensed he'd rather put Gene in the dock than clear his name, but given her unequivocal comments about the shooting being an accident, and the lack of any real evidence to the contrary, he could take it no further. He'd be formally cleared and back at the helm in no time.

Her statement given, hospital discharge paperwork in her pocket, all that was left was to wait for Chris to give her a lift back to the flat. She wouldn't miss this place. Checking her watch, she was about to give up and call a taxi when the door clicked open, her DCI walking in without knocking.

"Gene! What happened to Chris?"

You didn't think I'd let him drive you home after everything that's happened? "He's out on a call. Only me available."

She sent him a tight smile. "Well, let's get out of here then." He nodded and held the open for her, following her through the corridors and out to the car park.

The journey home, although short, was somewhat uncomfortable. She sensed that Gene still felt guilty over the shooting, even though she'd done her best to reassure him, and she wondered whether the team had been as forgiving of him as she had been.

She was aware there was a lot of ground still to be covered between them. They'd discussed the shooting but nothing of what had come before, their argument, his anger, the things he'd accused her of. She wasn't looking forward that particular conversation, but she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid it completely. It wasn't helping that he seemed so awkward, so on edge towards her.

Parking outside her flat, Gene insisted on seeing her up to her door. A box of fresh produce was sitting on the doormat, along with a small bouquet of freesias. Alex looked at Gene, surprised. "Was this you?"

He looked away. "Shaz did the shopping. I just gave her the fiver."

"Thank you," she murmured as he bent down to pick up the groceries.

"Least I could do."

She let them both into the flat, motioning him towards the kitchen. "Just leave it on the counter, I'll sort it out later."

"You've just come out of hospital," he sighed, exasperated. "Sit down, put your feet up. I'll deal with this."

Doing as instructed, Alex watched as Gene made free with her kitchen, knocking up a couple of bowls of soup, slicing a loaf of bread. She joined him at her small table, sharing the meal, chatting carefully, avoiding the elephant in the room. She was relieved at being back on speaking terms with Gene but the occasionally stilted conversation, the precise, deliberate phrasing, reminded her that their relationship wasn't where it used to be. She didn't want him acting fragile and tentative around her – she wanted him to be his robust, reassuring self. She wasn't sure they'd ever make it back.

Gene cleared away the dishes, leaving them in a pile in the sink. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Alex move across to the sofa, taking her coffee cup with her. What the bloody hell was he doing here anyway? He should just check she was all right, hand her a paperback and a box of chocolates and get the fuck out. He watched as she curled her legs beneath her, resting her head on her arm, tracing random patterns on her thigh with her finger.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't going anywhere, not as long as she'd have him. Whatever she needed. The shooting… it had brought everything home to him. Seeing her lying on those tiles, watching the blood seeping out of her, knowing he was responsible. For a brief moment he'd wanted to turn the gun on himself, but that escape was too easy he knew he'd have to stay and fight. So he'd stood and watched as the paramedics worked on her, avoiding the concerned gaze from Shaz, the accusatory stare from Ray, desperately hoping that she'd wake up, that he'd be able to tell her he was sorry, so unbelievably fucking sorry.

But she hadn't woken, and he'd spent 48 hours dodging the investigation into the shooting, sneaking in to the hospital to see her, pleading with her to come back to him. Guilt was eating away at his insides, at the fact that he'd shot her, that they'd argued so badly beforehand. He hadn't been able to think about what would happen if she didn't wake up, if she never spoke to him again. The irony wasn't lost on him. The number of times he'd snapped at her to be quiet, yet sitting by her hospital bed all he wanted in the world was to hear her voice again.

And then he'd think back to her voice on the tape, and the despair would hit him anew. The way she'd questioned him, doubted him, talked about needing to get away. He'd confronted her, had hoped, expected even, that she'd have had a ready answer for him, something that would explain everything, allow them to continue as before. And she'd given him that bollockshite about being from the future. Even now, standing in her flat, staring at her as she relaxed on her sofa, he couldn't push aside the pain. He'd opened himself up to her, admitted that she meant something to him, and she'd laughed in his face. He still had no idea what she really felt about him, and the way he felt about her was terrifying the living crap out of him.

He picked up his mug of coffee from the kitchen table and took a gulp. It'd been the best part of 18 months since she'd crashed into his station, turning his team and his life upside down. He'd wanted her from the outset, and even though he'd never really thought he stood much of a chance, he'd made a bit of an effort, tried to show her how he felt. She hadn't been interested, at least not back then, but over the last year or so things had changed between them, improved. Their working relationship had intensified, he'd trusted her with everything, wanted to let her into his life. He'd come close to letting her know, to risking rejection once more, then all this bullshit had happened and he no longer knew what to think.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked across to the sofa and took a seat next to Alex. "You going to be okay now?"

She nodded. "Still a bit tired. Should be all right after a bit of sleep."

"Best be making tracks, then." He didn't move.

"Suppose so." She paused for a moment, then set her mug on the coffee table and angled her body towards his. "Could you come back later?"

She was staring at him, her eyes clear, voice husky, and he thought he might regret it but he nodded nevertheless. "Got a few things to do back at the station. You get some rest. I'll be back this evening." He reached over and pressed the lightest of touches against her hand before letting himself out of her flat, pausing behind her closed door to take a swig from his hipflask. She was alive, she wasn't blaming him for the shooting, she wanted to see him this evening. It wasn't everything, but it was better than he'd hoped. Better than he deserved.

To be continued

AN – thank you so much for the lovely reviews and the favouriting. I do appreciate the comments and hope you've enjoyed this chapter too.