Alone at last. Just her and a bottle of red. Only 10pm. She'd only been sitting there for an hour and was already on her third glass. A walk on the docks had done nothing to stop her pain. Tears streaming down her cheeks she'd wandered aimlessly for ages attracting curious looks from passers-by and even prompting one elderly woman to stop and ask her if she was ok. She'd muttered something about just feeling unwell and hurried away as quick as she could. Craving solitude she somehow found her way back to her flat where she was now sat on a stool downing red and feeling worse by the second.

Why did he do this? Why would he hurt her like this? What had she done to deserve it. Didn't he know how she felt? That he made her feel things she never thought she could. That no matter how down she felt, however bad a day she was having, seeing him, hearing his voice, feeling his eyes on her, always made her feel better. That she longed for more than lingering looks, the odd brush of his hand, the playful flirting. Didn't any of that mean anything to him? Or was he just after his jollies?

The odd thing was that as much as it hurt there was a small part of her that couldn't help feeling a little flattered. She knew Gene, knew he wasn't a man of words and had the impression that he had put down on paper what he found hard to say . She so wished he could say it to her face. Three little words. That's all she wanted. Was that really too much to ask?

But if it's so easy why can't I say it to him?

Because she was scared? Because she didn't want to be hurt again? Or Because a small part of her worried he wouldn't say it back even though a larger part knew he would? All of those things. And, because the more she fell for him the more she couldn't bear to hurt him by getting involved when she knew she'd have to leave him so soon.

In spite of herself she laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Here she was lost in her own mind, an emotional wreak because she'd fallen in love with a imaginary construct who was probably the complete opposite of what she'd go for in the real world. Gene was stubborn, unpredictable, unbelievably prejudiced towards women, gays you name it, and had ideas about policing she could only describe as Neanderthal. And yet he was completely irresistible to her. She wanted everything about him. Perhaps because she'd seen a side to him others rarely, if ever, did. A gentle, protective, and sensitive side that he seemed to reserved only for her. And she loved him all the more for it.

But now she was doubting herself. And him. Could he really have turned on the charm just to get his bit, like so many of the men she'd come into contact with over the years? She didn't want to believe it. She'd been so sure her feelings were reciprocated. So sure he felt the same. So sure…..

A sudden knock the door brought her out of her reverie. Trying not fall she carefully eased herself out of her stool and made her way to the door swaying slightly. After a brief fumbling with the lock she swung the door open and immediately her stomach tightened. Gene Hunt leaned unsteadily against the door frame looking slightly dishevelled and more than a little bit drunk.

"Bolls I.."

" Go away" she spat trying to close the door on him but stopping as he wedged his foot in the jamb rendering it impossible to shut it.

"Look I know I'm the last person you want to see right now …"

" You think…" she gave hard laugh "Quite honestly I wouldn't care if I never saw your face again. You disgust me"

" Alex…"

The use of her first name stopped her briefly. God why did he have to do that? If he'd any idea what it to her, hearing her name on his lips like that. But no she wouldn't let herself go there. She needed to focus on the immediate issue.

" Just leave me alone"

For a moment it looked as though he might leave but then he seemed to have second thoughts and stepped forward into the apartment. He was unsteady on his feet and as he came towards her he stumbled slightly. Instinctively she reached out a hand to help him and was aware of him tensing slightly when she touched his arm. For a second time seemed to stop. His fingers closed on her elbow. Slowly he started to pull her in. His eyes seemed to burn into hers.

" Bolly….I…." his tone was husky and gentle

No Alex get a grip! She chided herself. He'd embarrassed her, hurt her and he wasn't going to wriggle out it of that easy as tempted as she was to let him. Suddenly snapping back to reality, she turned on her heel, shuffled back to her stool and poured herself another glass of wine. Wordlessly he followed her seating himself on the empty stool to her left.