Disclaimer. BBC, Kudos and Monastic own Ashes to Ashes and everything pertaining thereto. My parents own the original of Alex's candlestick. I only own my ideas.

Repeated thanks to everyone who has read the first two chapters and especially those who have reviewed, here and elsewhere. Your feedback is most welcome.

This chapter is by far the longest and contains the real meat of the story. It's also, inevitably, the one about which I have most reservations. But see what you think.

Her first impulse on hearing Gene was to shout to him to piss off, but something in the tone of his voice stopped her. After his behaviour earlier she would have expected him be defiant, but he sounded subdued, almost pleading. If he was going to apologise, she thought with the last of her vindictiveness, it should be worth hearing. Her decision made, she removed the chain and opened the door.

She had to restrain a gasp at the sight of him. By this stage of the evening she would have expected him to be thoroughly drunk, but by the glow of the candle and the landing light, the blue eyes were clear and he was rock-steady on his feet. She guessed that he had not touched a drop since that glass of wine earlier in the evening. But his face was that of a man who had looked into Hell.

"Can't imagine you'll ever want to see me or talk to me again," he said, very low. "But 'ere I am. Been drivin' around for hours trying to think 'ow to say this, and I'm no nearer than when I started. Can I - ?"

He gestured helplessly, and she nodded and stood aside to let him in. I should throw him out. But for him to be showing his feelings like this, whatever has happened must be serious. If he's ever going to open up about what's troubling him, this is the time. This is more important than my personal pride.

He looked surprised to see the the candlestick in her hand and the flat in near-darkness, and she thought she heard him muttering, "Power cut?"

"My Advent candle," she said, setting it back on the cabinet. "Like it?"

Without replying, he sank onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands. Her first impulse was to sit next to him, but some instinct told her that he needed space. Graceful as a cat, she sat on the rug at his feet, resting her arms on the corner of the sofa seat, gazing up at him, and waited.

He slowly lifted his head and looked down at her. The candlelight turned his hair to bright gold and threw his face into shadow. She sensed that he was grateful for the privacy that the semi-darkness gave him.

"Been a bastard t'you, Alex, an' I know it," he said wearily. "Can't ask you to forgive me, but will you let me try an' explain?"

"Go ahead," she said softly.

He was silent for a long time, and she guessed that he didn't know how to begin.

"You knew Sam, didn't you?" he said abruptly.

The question was so unexpected that it took her a few seconds to say, "Yes - that is, I never met him, but I read his reports and listened to tapes he made, and I felt that I came to know him through those."

"Hah! Reports, tapes -" one large hand made a dismissive gesture. "That's not knowing my Sammy-boy. You'd 'ave 'ad to meet 'im for that, to know 'im like I did. He was my best mate. The best friend a bloke ever 'ad. He was more than a brother to me. I was goin' to the bad when he came along. Oh, I thought I was gettin' on all right, but I was fittin' people up to get results, takin' backhanders. Playin' the scum at their own game to keep the streets clean. It worked in its way, but it wasn't right. It took 'im time, but he made me realise that. The day 'e first waltzed into my office..."

The memories poured from him in a seemingly unstoppable flood, case after case, anecdote after anecdote, some which Alex already knew and others which were new to her. He was more animated than he had been in weeks. Alex listened, enthralled, as his words brought Sam back to life. She could have sworn that there was a third person in the room, a slim, sad-eyed, sweet-faced young man in a leather jacket, who stood in the deepest shadows listening to the voice of his dearest friend recalling their days together.

"Then 'e died." Gene's voice dropped to a whisper. "Drove 'is car into the river. Drowned. Never found 'is body. What a waste. Bloody useless waste. Couldn't say goodbye. Never thanked 'im properly for all 'e did for me. I miss 'im. Oh, God, I miss 'im -" He bowed his head into his hands again and there was deep silence in the room.

Alex's mind was whirling. She ached to reach out and comfort him, but after his earlier rejection she did not know if she had the right. Inwardly she was furious with herself. Call yourself a psychologist, Drake? This man's been bleeding inside over the death of his best friend. I bet he hasn't been able to talk to anyone about it. He hasn't been able to grieve properly. He can't move on. No wonder he can't accept another relationship. And you'd written him off as an insensitive bastard!

"I killed 'im." Gene's voice cut shockingly through the silence.

"But - but you can't have," said Alex uncertainly. "You weren't even there. Ray told me - "

"I should 'ave been there!" he snarled. "I should 'ave stopped 'im! I was needed, an' I wasn't there. I killed 'im as surely as if I'd put me gun to 'is 'ead an' pulled the trigger!"

"Gene, you can't - "

"Don't tell me I shouldn't be blaming myself!" He raised his head sharply, looking away from her. His body was rigid, and his voice was raw with an anguish which made her heart ache. "They all say that - Ray, Chris. Even Annie, an' Christ knows she 'as most cause to blame me. I know. I destroyed 'im. Me best friend. An' that was what killed me marriage. We'd gone on for years. It was no more than 'alf a marriage, but we'd got along, even though I was a bastard to 'er most of the time. She put up with me absences, me boozin', me bits on the side, but the one thing she couldn't take was me grieving for 'im. To 'er, my Sam was only a colleague. I tried to talk to 'er about 'ow I felt, but she just told me to get over it. She felt threatened because I could feel that much for anyone else. Never understood. Got fed up an' left in the end. I came 'ome one night to find the 'ouse empty an' 'er clothes gone, a note on the table an' me supper in the oven, burned to a cinder. That was like 'er style. But I couldn't blame'er," he added, his voice softening, instinctively turning his head so that his face was in deeper shadow, where Alex could not see him. "She deserved better than I was prepared to give 'er. She's better off without me. Like everyone."

"Gene, how can you say that?"

"I destroy whatever I touch!" he said harshly. "Stu too, me poor brother. 'E died a junkie. I didn't find 'im in time. I should 'ave been there, an' I wasn't!"

Alex silently searched for something to say which might break down the walls of self-imposed guilt which this pain-racked man had built around himself. She was a psychologist, a hostage negotiator, yet she had never felt so helpless in the face of overwhelming grief. Classic survivor guilt. God knows I'm familiar with that. But I've learned to deal with it, and he hasn't. Just let him talk. Let all the pain spill out. Then it may be easier for me to reach him.

He turned his head to look at her again, and the flickering light fell across his face, illumining it, bringing out the glow in his eyes as they met hers. "That's why I've got to keep away from you," he said softly. "You're the breath of life t'me, Alex. The only worthwhile thing I've 'ad to live for since 'e died. Always known it, ever since that first day when you put your 'and on me chest an' were surprised to find I 'ad an 'eart. Just couldn't admit it to meself, much less to you. I've been letting you get closer t'me, an' that could destroy you too. I can't risk that. Mustn't. It's got to be enough t'me to know you're alive an' safe an' happy. That's why I said what I did, tonight. Had to drive you away. Should 'ave left it at that. Should 'ave let you go on thinkin' I'm the bastard that I am. Meant to make you mad at me, but shouldn't 'ave 'urt you too. That's why I came 'ere to explain. I owed you that." Even in the dim light she could see the shutters coming down. "Forget it. I'm talkin' bollocks. I'd better go."

Her heart beat wildly, and she was almost choked with unshed tears. He loves me. But if I don't speak now, I'll lose him. He gathered the skirts of his coat about him and made to rise, and at last she dared to reach out to him, laying a hand on his arm. He froze at her touch.

"No, Gene. Don't go." She forced her voice to sound calm. "You said you owed it to me to explain. Well, now you owe it to me to stay."

Unwillingly, he settled back onto the sofa, desperate to escape, his body still rigid. He could not look at her, taking refuge in the darkness. Hardly surprising, after making an admission like that. For few moments they were both silent, while she mutely prayed for the right words to reach him.

"I want to thank you for telling me all this," she said carefully, sounding calmer than she felt. "It - it explains a lot. I feel so privileged that you feel able to talk to me about it. Perhaps it's as well that you think like this. After all, if, as you say, you're a destroyer, then I must be too, and I'd rather do anything than harm you."

"NO!" He turned his head sharply towards her, and she saw the shock and horror written in his face. "Not you! Never you! You're all life - all beauty - "

"My parents died because of me," she continued relentlessly. "In an accident, when I was a child. I can still see it as if it were yesterday." She hesitated, no longer looking at him, lost for a moment in terrifying memories. I can't tell him the whole truth. "They - they were coming to collect me from school. I was standing outside, waiting for them. I saw the car approaching. My mother was leaning out of the window and calling to me. Then suddenly, a skid - the car crashed into a tree - it was a fireball. They didn't stand a chance. They died before my eyes, belted into the blazing car, and left me all alone. Ever since I've had to carry the guilt of their deaths."

"But why?" he said gently.

"Because I lived and they died! I watched them burn to death and I didn't do anything!"

"You couldn't!" he said forcefully. "You were a kid. Even as a grown woman, you wouldn't 'ave been able to do anything. If you'd tried to 'elp, you'd 'ave been killed too. D'you think they'd 'ave wanted that for you?"

My father did. But I can't tell you that. "I don't know. Sometimes - I think they'd have wanted me with them."

"Of course they wouldn't! Not unless they were sick bastards like Tim Price, an' I pray there aren't any more like 'im in the world. You mustn't blame yourself for that."

"Then my marriage failed. That was my fault too. It was doomed from the start because I wasn't prepared to give it enough. I was so determined to make something of myself. So that people would admire me instead of pitying me."

"That's not bein' a destroyer. That's bein' positive."

"My ex-husband wouldn't say so," she said grimly. "He resented my devotion to my work, and he started cheating on me almost as soon as the honeymoon was over. He divorced me for a younger woman."

"'Old it right there. It takes two to cock up a marriage. I know that. Any man who was prepared to cheat on you didn't deserve you."

"Too right he didn't." She laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm punished now. My daughter was the only good thing to come from my marriage, and I don't know whether I'll ever see her again."

"You mean 'e's got custody?" he said softly. "Because you've got a job? God, I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't know."

"No reason you should. I hadn't said anything." She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of Molly. "So, you see, that's why I'm alone. I've destroyed or driven away or lost all of them."

"Stop talkin' gobshit! You said yourself, your parents' death was an accident. You're not to blame for survivin'. Thank God you did. Lucky I don't know your 'usband, or I'd kick seven shades of crap out of 'im. 'E was a bastard. Pull yourself together, Bolly. It's not like you to blame yourself for everything. You're usually too busy blamin' everyone else in the world. Especially me."

"Then why is it all right for you to blame yourself when I'm not allowed to?" she flashed back.

For a moment she saw a flicker of uncertainty, then he rallied. "Because I should 'ave been there! What's 'appened to you isn't your fault."

"Because you've got to be invincible? Because I'm a woman? Come off it, Gene. We're all human. None of us succeed all of the time. You've got to accept that and move on. Just as I've tried to do."

He hunched back into the sofa, his hands dug into his pockets, looking away from her into the darkness, cutting himself off from her. "You don't understand..." he muttered.

"Don't I? But if you were going to destroy me, you would have done it long ago. You wouldn't have stopped me walking out in front of that car, the day we met. You wouldn't have saved Shaz and myself from Layton, by the river. You'd have let me take the force of the blast when The Finish went up. You'd have left me to freeze to death in the Cales' cold store. You wouldn't have shielded me when Hollis opened fire. Time and again, you've saved me. When we were locked in the vault at Edgehampton, you comforted me when I was on the point of breaking down. I'll always remember how safe I felt with you, even though I knew we were likely to die there. And when you found me in that cold store, I was hallucinating. I could see - death - looming over me. Then suddenly you were there, and I knew I would live. You, death? You, a destroyer? No, Gene. You are life. A force for good such as I have never known. My guardian angel. One of the first things Ray said to me when I came here, was that being where you are, is the right place to be, and he was right. Sam didn't die because of you, he died because he wouldn't wait for you. Every time you've had to come to my rescue, it's been because I've tried to do without you. I thought I had to do this on my own, but now I know that I can't be alone any longer. I need you, Gene. I always will. I love you."

Even in the dim light she saw his face soften as he turned to her, saw the hope and longing that he tried to hide. "Alex, no…"

"Yes! I love you, you bloody impossible man. I know it at last. I should have known it long ago. Are you going to punish us both because you can't square it with your conscience to love me and accept whatever we might have together?"

He looked like a thirsty traveller in a desert who had to pass by an oasis. "I can't. You know why. I mustn't."

"If I'm wrong, if my loving you does put me in danger in some obscure way, then I'll accept that risk. You wouldn't be to blame, it would all be my fault. I'd rather love you and live, really live, for whatever time I have here, however short or long it is, than go on like this, merely existing without you."

He was almost quivering with need. "Alex, I can't. For your sake."

It would take so little for him to reach out to me. But it's the one thing he can't let himself do.

"Oh, Gene," she said softly. "I know how much worse it is to fear for the one you love, than to fear for yourself. A madman had me at gunpoint, and I wasn't afraid, but then he snatched my daughter and I nearly died of terror. You're the bravest man I know. I've never seen you afraid for yourself. But you're so afraid of losing me too, that you're isolating yourself from me. From everyone. That's what will destroy you."

"Don't care what 'appens to me," he whispered. "So long as you're safe, I can take it."

"But I care what happens to you, and would Sam - Sam, of all people - want you to live only half a life because of some imagined guilt over him? You've just been telling me about someone who was life-affirming, a force for good, like you. Wouldn't he want to you to be able to remember him by celebrating his life, instead of being lost in grief?"

"I do remember 'im." The shutters came down again, and she cursed herself. Wrong move. Oh, God, I was so near. Now he's pulling away again. "That's why I know what I've got to do. Keepin' you safe's all I can do, for you an' for 'im."

"I don't want to be safe if it means being without you!" Tears were gathering in her eyes. She was beyond pride. Nothing matters, if only I can get through to him. "We risk our lives together, day after day! We both know that's part of the job, and we wouldn't have it any other way! I'm only safe with you. Gene - "

He had himself in control now, she saw it. He could not trust himself to speak lest he betray himself, but he was looking away from her, and his face was set in grim, immovable lines. She could feel his body tensing to rise and walk out of the flat, out of her life. He would never open up to her like this again.

I've lost him. I've utterly failed, most miserably failed. I've failed myself and, worse, I've failed him.

She buried her face in the corner of the sofa seat and cried as if her heart would break, lost to everything but the depths of her despair. She heard him groan "Oh, my love - ", then he slid off the sofa and was on his knees, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close and safe, cradling her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair, rocking her as though she were the child whom he had once saved from an explosion. She clung to him and gave herself up to the luxury of her tears. She cried for the man she loved, for his grief and pain; for herself, the child she had been and the woman she had become; for Sam, for her parents, and for Molly. She heard him murmur soothingly, "Oh, no, no, no, not that - don't cry, Alex - it's okay, I'm 'ere - I'm with you - I won't go - shh, shh, I'm 'ere - oh, love - " Then his words ceased and she knew that he was weeping, and that his tears eased the sorrow that had frozen his heart for so long. She cried for that, too. They stayed there for a long time, in one anothers' arms, while the candle burned lower.

Sam turned away into the darkness and left them alone together.

TBC