Here we go again – and it's getting interesting...

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Gene Hunt had barely finished the word before he got moving, desperate to get the both of them out of danger before their captor came to his senses. One thing stopped his progress, however.

"MMMPPPGHH – aggghhhhhhh!" Alex Drake's broken cry stopped him in his track. Whirling around, he realised that he had all but forgotten her shattered ankle – she was in no fit state to run. Looking down at her, he felt guilt flood over him.

"Another officer down – I really am doin' a shit job of lookin' out for my team today" he muttered to himself.

"No, Gene, you're not." Alex's reply was so quiet that it could have been mistaken for a sigh.

"Look 'oo's talkin'," he looked down at her pale face, "You're in no condition to tell me I'm doin' a good job. You're temporarily crippled; roped up to me; and yer face is as white as polar bear's arse."

"Well – I suppose things could be better," she managed a half-smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Cheers, Bolly," he returned the half-smile.

"Urrrrrrgggghhh," They were interrupted by another loud groan from the writhing gunman on the floor.

"Right, Drake, I reckon that's our cue t' get our stamped arses out of 'ere – pronto!" Raising both eyebrows at her, Hunt made to move again.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Guv?" She indicated her useless ankle with a pained look.

"Got it covered, Bolls." Flashing a quick grin and a hasty wink, he stooped down to the floor, bringing her with him. "Right – legs up!" He gingerly helped her slip her injured leg into the sling created by his bound wrists, then motioned for her to do the same with her other leg.

"'Uston, we have bleedin' lift off!" With a strained groan of effort, he rose back to his feet, lifting her with him in a carrying position. Looking quickly down at their attacker, he spat out one last jibe, "Thanks for everythin' – now we better be off. See ya in the nick later on, ya sick bastard!"

And, having gotten the last word in as usual, he made for the stairs at a staggered run - DI Drake cradled in his arms.

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"Look – you're gonna have to put me down!" Alex prodded Gene lightly in the chest.

"Nope – still – three floors – to – go," his breath was laboured and Alex could feel his heart racing.

"Well I can't have you collapsing from heart failure, can I?" she begged him, "Stop being so chivalrous and put me down – I'll have to limp." When he didn't answer, she changed tack, looking for a compromise. "At least have a rest for a few minutes?" She tugged at his shirt for emphasis.

"Now you're – talkin' – sense!" Coming to a halt, Gene looked back down the corridor for signs of the gunman. Seeing none, he looked hastily around for a hiding place. Spotting a door, he headed for it a laboured jog. "No sense in – gettin' – caught – now – eh, Bolls?" Swinging open the door, he ducked inside, careful not catch Alex's ankle on the frame.

The only, slight problem with carrying his DI was that Gene Hunt had no hands free to hold the door. He only realised his mistake, when looking around for a light switch in the tiny room, he heard the unmistakeable sound of a door clicking shut behind him, locking them in.

Sinking onto the floor of the darkened room, Hunt let out a sigh and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Alex, who was now sitting in his lap, collapsed against his sweaty chest; weak from the pain, she needed the rest as much as he did. They sat in silence for a few minutes; Alex finding a strange comfort in the steady rise and fall of Gene's chest, and the 'thump-de-thump' of the heart beneath.

When she was sure that there were no noises from outside, and that Hunt's breathing had just about returned to its normal rate, Alex broke the silence.

"Where are we, Gene?" she kept her voice low – just in case.

"Locked in a tiny room with no light switch on the fourth floor," she felt the low rumble of his voice against her head, as well as hearing it. "Oh, and don't worry 'bout it, Drake, all that runnin' was probably good for me 'ealth." Even in her web of pain, she couldn't mistake the sarcasm.

"Thanks, Gene," her tone was sincere and apologetic, "I dunno what I'd have done if-"

"Apology accepted," he returned, his voice gruff, "Jus' don't go makin' an 'abit of it – ok?"

"Well it's not my personal fantasy – being stuck in what is essentially a broom-closet with my overbearing boss – I mean," she grinned in the dark, "how clichéd can you get?"

"Well this 'klee-shay' evidently doesn't know what it's missin'." She felt him puff up his chest at the insult.

Laughing softly, she playfully punched him in the arm; too exhausted to put up a fight.

"Oofff – what the bloody 'ell was that for?" She had forgotten that their arms were still linked; when she had touched his arm, she had inadvertently caused her companion to elbow himself in the jaw.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Gene," she tried to keep her voice straight, but couldn't quite stifle the giggle.

"You don't 'alf pack a punch when you want to, Bolly," he spoke in an injured tone that sobered her, a little.

"I'm sorry," Alex repeated, "What else do you want me to do?" She instantly regretted the question. Although she couldn't see him, she could practically hear him thinking the offer through.

"Well, since you're offerin'," he delayed the answer, wanting to tease her, "I'm quite a fan of the traditional method."

"And that would be...?" She asked with trepidation, feeling that the silence had become a little too oppressing. Her senses seemed to be on overdrive: she was suddenly all too aware of her head against his chest; his hands next to hers; that musky male aroma – everything seemed to centre around Gene Hunt.

"You never 'eard the sayin' 'kiss it better'?" She felt, rather than heard, the catch in his breath; sensed his heart up its pace by a notch; the slight sheen of sweat on his palms. None of it somehow seemed real: the Guv was usually all talk, no action – he copped a feel when he could, and eyed up other women constantly, but never had she known him to react like this.

She opened her mouth to reply, but no witty retort would come. She gulped – surely she didn't want to-

"Not like we got many other options, is it?" He interrupted her thoughts, "And Lord only knows 'ow long it's gonna take Chris 'n' the others t' get 'ere."

She rose her head up off his chest to face him.

"What do you mean by 'other options', Gene?" She was affronted by his casual remark and anger seemed to bubble to the surface. "You think I've got no other option but to snog you? Just because we're temporarily trapped in here, it does not mean we have to give up all sense of logic, reason and protocol. Yes, thanks for carrying me, and I'm sorry for accidentally knocking your jaw, but maybe I should have punched you a bit harder, because Lord knows you need some bloody sense knocked into you! I wouldn't kiss you if the future of this planet depended upon it!"

"Oh really, Drake?" The smugness of his tone riled her up even more.

"Bloody right!"

"So what are we doin' now?" His voice was low, and she felt a delicious shiver pass through her.

She hadn't realised that during her tirade, she had unconsciously shuffled ever closer to him. So close, that they were now centimetres away from each other. She could feel his breath on her cheek; feel the heat from his skin.

"I, uh, don't really..." She trailed off, and instinctively leaned in nearer, her heart beating a tattoo on her ribcage and her pulse racing.

The room felt charged with electricity that had been silently building in the background; it was the most erotic thing Alex Drake had ever felt. She rested her forehead against his, the heat seemingly melding their skin together. Her hair fell around them, tickling her cheek, and she could feel his eye-lashes fluttering against hers, as he closed his eyes. His nose nudged against hers gently, and she could feel his breath against her lips. Although she could see nothing, every other sense seemed heightened; the heat of his body; the taste of something electric in the air; his heavy breathing like thunder in the silent room; the indescribable scent that was just 'him'.

Her breath hitched a little as she felt him move again, shifting his body beneath her; twisting one hand to touch hers, running his fingers slowly along each of hers, and over her palm. Her body seemed to act of its own accord; returning the grip of his fingers, and nudging his nose with hers, searching for his lips. She was so close, so close to feeling his lips on hers, she could almost taste him.

"Alex?" he spoke so softly that she almost didn't catch it, using her given name for what seemed to be the first time.

She leaned in a little closer.

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Good?

(I forgot to mention that I am the Queen of Evil Cliffhangers)

R & R