He could see the man aiming out of the corner of his eye, the glint of the barrel, the growl of anger just audible beneath the yells of the police officers storming the house. The light streaming into the room lit up his eyes, the manic gleam in them only brightening as he took aim.

Straight at Alex.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

No!

Gene launched himself sideways, flinging his arm out as the gunshot rang out.

He was totally unprepared for the explosion of pain from his bicep and the warm slide of blood down his cold skin.

He could hear Alex screaming, hear the men being arrested, someone dropping to their haunches beside him as he let himself fall to the floor, panting for breath. Everything was swimming, and he wondered if this was it, if this was the end, if he was going to heaven now to be with Grandma, his last ever deed to save the life of a posh little girl who'd come to rely completely on him…

"Gene- someone help-"

"I'm OK," Gene whispered, his chest aching at the blatant lie. Alex's face was blurred, but he could still make out the huge green eyes, the hazel flecks and the sheen of tears, her sobs betraying her care for him. For him, the snot-nosed Mancunian boy who had stumbled into her privileged world and found himself completely out of his league, only able to do the one thing that came easily to him: protect someone.

Reaching out, he tried to dispel some of the terror in her eyes."Don't worry 'bout me…"He didn't know if he'd succeeded, because even as he forced the words out, Alex was going out of focus, and his heavy eyelids were dragging over his blurred sight as the last thing he heard whispered in his ear: "I won't let you not be OK."

Had he been fully conscious, he might have smiled. But it was all he could manage to twitch his lip as the darkness took him over completely, the back of his head resting back against something as the world disappeared.

Gene was floating.

If he squinted, he could just make out white lights all around him, so bright they made his eyes ache, pointing slightly down so that his body was in shadow. Or at least, he assumed it was in shadow. He couldn't feel that much, and so decided not to try and look down, because he didn't know what he'd find there.

Floating…

Well, he could safely assume that he wasn't in heaven, because there was no sign of Grandma; he was pretty sure she'd be there in his heaven, even though he hadn't seen her that often. And she'd said in heaven, there was no pain, and you were at peace. Gene's arm ached, just where he was sure he'd been shot, and he certainly didn't feel peaceful- he felt like punching something, lashing out to try and dispel some of the worry he felt. He wanted his mam, and he wanted to stop floating, he wanted some reassurance and some comfort. Certain that nobody could see him, he let his eyes prick with tears, determinedly sniffing to try and contain the emotion that threatened to suffocate him.

"You never understand that it's OK ter cry, do yer?"

"What?"

Gene swerved round, or at least it felt like he swerved round. Someone was stood behind him, above the bright lights, a smile on his placid face as he crouched to Gene's level, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yer not dead, Gene. I promise. The bullet didn't kill yer, yer in 'ospital an' yer safe. Alex is safe too. Don't worry."

"'Ow d'you know? Who are you?"

The man smiled softly, his hand rough and reassuring on Gene's skin.

"My name's Sam. 'Ow do I know? Same way as you'll know in a second. Look down, Gene."

A frown on his face, Gene craned his neck, looking down on what he assumed to be the floor of wherever he was.

He gasped.

The bright lights were those of an operating theatre, all directed down on an operating table. On which he lay.

Everyone was clustered round his right arm, working on the wound a few inches below his shoulder, what he suspected was the bullet on a small tray beside the table beside a row of faintly blood-stained tools. Gene looked up at his head, eyes widening as he took in his own closed eyes, the ventilator tube in his mouth, the drip bag full of blood emptying into his left hand. A machine stood by his side, bleeping with each heartbeat, just like in the medical dramas Mammy liked watching.

"See?" Sam said gently, his thumb rubbing Gene's shoulder. "Yer not dead. I suspect yer've been better, but yer not dead. They've got the bullet out an' they're just repairin' some o' the damage it did. Yer won't be able ter use yer arm too much fer a while, but don't worry, there won't be any permanent damage, just a scar that yer can show off ter yer mates when the bandages come off."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely. There'd be much more panic than this if you were in any real danger. An' Alex is waitin' outside fer yer, demandin' updates every five minutes. She won't go 'ome with 'er mum until she's seen yer, until she knows yer safe. Yer should be in theatre fer about another fifteen minutes, but not too much longer- though I doubt she'll be goin' 'ome until she's seen yer. They've told 'er yer saved 'er life."

"I…"

Sam simply grinned, nodding.

"Yeah, they saw."

"What else was I supposed ter do?"

"Yer did the right thing. Yer saved Alex's life. Yer an 'ero. Gene Hunt, eight years old, an 'ero. Yer mam'll be so proud."

"Yeah… she will." Gene's chest swelled, his back straightening a little as he looked straight up at Sam, dragging his eyes away from the pitiful sight beneath him. Sam grinned.

"Say hi ter Alex fer me, eh? I'm sure we'll meet again someday, but I've got ter go an' you should too. Not sure 'ow the logistics of this work, but out-of-body experiences tend ter stop yer wakin' up. Be'ave now, I know you- yer'll 'ave those bandages off in the blink of an eye an' end up gettin' an infection. I did warn yer… in a sense. Not you. Other you. Christ, this is confusing…"

"Other me? What other me?"

"Yer might find out someday," Sam said gently, squeezing Gene's left arm. "I'm not sure whether ter say I 'ope yer do or I 'ope yer don't, an' I'm not sure 'ow the future works from 'ere, but Gene, if yer ever on a stakeout in 2005, an' there's a man with a shotgun, keep back, yeah? An' fer Christ's sake, don't try ter be the 'ero too often."

"What… 2005? A man with a shotgun?"

"If it 'appens, listen ter yer DI. That's all I'll say ter yer. Do as 'e says, because 'e might well know best, despite 'ow pig-'eaded you are."

"I'm not pig-'eaded!"

Gene pouted, hands on hips, only for Sam to burst out laughing, wiping his eyes as Gene stared at him with an expression best suited to someone who had just seen Jesus sitting on their sofa chatting to Doctor Who and Albert Einstein.

"I always wondered when yer started poutin' like that… sorry. I really must go now. It's been great chattin' ter yer, I always said yer might 'ave been cute once. Get better soon, yeah? Good luck."

And before Gene could quiz him on anything else, Sam had pulled him into a huge bear hug and vanished into the bright lights of the operating theatre.

Leaving them to swallow Gene, dragging him down as he struggled for breath, a monitor bleeping somewhere in the far distance and a surgeon's hands brushing his mouth as the world went black…

"Will Gene have lots of bandages on him?"

"On his arm, yes. Probably not on the rest of him."

"And will he have a tube in his mouth to make him breathe?"

"No, sweetheart. He'd only have needed that while he was in theatre and asleep. He'll be able to breathe normally now, without a tube, but he might need a mask if he gets out of breath."

"So he'll be able to talk to me?"

"Probably. He might be sleepy though, and he might fall asleep whilst you're talking to him, and if he does you'll have to leave quietly, OK? And not wake him up again so he can carry on talking. He'll need lots of sleep."

"Thank you," Alex whispered timidly, her fingers clenching on Caroline Price's hand; Caroline gave the nurse bending to talk to Alex a crooked smile, pulling Alex gently away and towards the room where Gene Hunt was, her heels clacking on the grimy floor.

Gene Hunt.

Caroline had been told, in no uncertain terms, how Gene had saved her daughter's life, taking the bullet that would have killed or permanently brain-damaged little Alex in his own arm in his bid to protect her. She had to admit that, at first, she'd been somewhat lukewarm towards this mysterious Northern boy, perhaps a little disapproving, but the moment the police officers had told her what Gene had done any misgivings she might have had had fallen away, replaced by a fierce gratitude. She wouldn't be holding her little girl's hand now had Gene not been there, or certainly Alex wouldn't be holding hers back. Even the thought brought tears to her normally stern eyes, softening them in the glare of the hospital strip lighting.

The door shrilled as she pushed it slowly open.

Her first thought, upon entering, was that Gene was surprisingly cute, even with pale skin and heavy eyelids: floppy blond hair, brilliant blue eyes and strikingly long eyelashes, she knew he'd be a stunner in later life. The woman she assumed to be his mother sat on the edge of a plastic visitors' chair, stroking her little boy's hand; a younger boy, somewhat wild-looking with ruffled blond curls and crumpled clothing, was playing with his brother's drip feed, winding it round his arm and pretending it was feeding him too as Gene sat propped up on several pillows, a grin on his face as Eileen Hunt squeezed his fingers and whispered her pride for him over and over again.

"Mrs Hunt?"

Caroline let go of her daughter's hand, deciding to let the children greet each other without her intervention; Alex flew straight to the bed and leapt onto it, a scream of "Thank you!" renting the air as she pulled Gene into a hug and burst into tears on his good shoulder. Eileen watched them, a watery beam on her face, standing up to meet Caroline and immediately having to brace herself as the woman threw herself straight at her, pulling her into a huge embrace. Stu watched, his jaw hanging open, wondering if the world had gone completely crazy as Alex wept into Gene's T-shirt and the two women cried on each other's shoulders, clutching each other as though they were drowning.

"How is he?" Caroline managed to choke out, pulling a chair up to sit herself down; Eileen collapsed back into her seat, the tearful smile still coating her face.

"No permanent damage, just a few scars. 'E'll love showin' 'em off ter the other boys, you know what lads are."

Caroline didn't, but she decided to keep it to herself, instead smiling at Gene as he turned to take her in, his arm round Alex's shoulder.

"Hello, Gene. I'm Alex's mother, Caroline." Easiest to treat him as an adult; he had just saved her daughter's life, after all. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks." His voice was a little croaky, but despite his sore throat every syllable still dripped with Mancunian accent. It was surprisingly charming.

"Your arm must be hurting."

"It's not so bad," Gene said stoically, a hint of a grin on his face. "Everyone'll think I'm really cool 'cos I've been shot. Nobody else I know's been shot, 'cept my dad."

"Eh, don't you go runnin' off inter the army too, Genie. I'm not 'avin' you runnin' around on some God-forsaken battlefield gettin' yerself killed," Eileen said gently, her hand on Gene's ruffled blond hair. "You alright, Alex? I'm Eileen, Gene's mam."

Alex shyly took the proferred hand, the grin on her face threatening to split it in half as she whispered her name; Caroline watched in silence, amazed by the effect this enigmatic little boy had had, diving head-first into her life, changing it dramatically, and topping it off by saving it. And he clearly has no inkling. Do you know how lucky you are, Eileen, having a child like that? Alex can barely say boo to a goose.

"Oof!"

"Oh, sorry, Gene! It's not bleeding, is it? Are you alright?"

"No, it's not bleedin', but next time, Alex, don't lean on it!"

"I'll only lean on it when I'm drunk, then. Mummy says people do silly things when they're drunk."

"That's right," Caroline said firmly, her eyes on Alex's. "So you're not getting drunk any time soon, are you?"

"No, Mummy."

"You'd be a funny drunk," Gene grinned, nudging her with his good elbow. "Bet yer'd fall over everywhere, an' yer'd sound even posher than yer do now. What's that stuff you posh people get drunk on? Bol- Billinging?"

"Bollinger?" Caroline supplied, the ghost of a smile on her face. "We only have Bollinger on very special occasions, Gene. It's very expensive."

"But I bet yer can afford it- oops. I mean, erm, Alex said yer were a solicitor, so, erm…"

Gene was saved somewhat by the abrupt arrival of Mrs Baker, Ray, Chris and Brian, the three boys swamping his bed and tipping an unfortunate Stu off the end of it as his teacher promptly burst into tears at the sight of him, bending to hug him awkwardly as Eileen patted her back. Is there somethin' about women that just makes 'em cry all the time?

And from there the evening descended into something akin to barbarism.

"I think it's time to go, Alex."

Alex, dozing on her mother's lap, hadn't realised how much time had passed since the boys' arrival; her mother's watch told her it was nearly ten o'clock, long past Alex's normal bedtime, and the ward held a hushed silence as the nurses padded around on rubber soled shoes, trying not to disturb any of the sleeping patients. Of which one was young Gene Hunt, his blond hair scattered all over the pillow, face softened in sleep despite the pout still in place on it. Eileen stood up to walk Caroline to the door, motioning for her to dump Alex on Gene's bed for a second; Alex abruptly found herself snuggling up to him once again as her mother moved away, worried for a split second before Gene's warmth found its way to her skin and she relaxed, sitting up to observe him as he slumbered.

"Thank you for saving me, Gene," she whispered, bending so that her lips brushed his cheek, her hair dangling into his face. "Thank you so much. You're amazing."

And before either of the mothers could notice, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, his smooth skin warm and comforting beneath her mouth for one brilliant second before she had to sit up and slide off the bed at her mother's call. Murmuring a goodbye, she headed for the entrance, only risking one glimpse back at the bed before Caroline picked her up and carried her out of the ward, her high heels almost disturbingly loud on the linoleum tiles.

And so she missed Gene's eyes slipping open as she kissed him, regarding her sleepily as she hurried to her mother's side and Eileen shook hands with Caroline, the latter hoisting her daughter up into her arms to carry her out of the ward, disappearing out into the dimly-lit corridor. Eileen stayed where she was, watching them out; Gene closed his eyes again, giving in to his fatigue and the dull ache in his arm.

"Night, Bolly," he whispered into the gloom, fast asleep before Eileen could return to his side, only vaguely registering her goodnight kiss to his forehead as she curled up in a camp bed beside him.

He did not know that that nickname would stick for many years to come, nor that Alex Price was in no way, shape or form gone from his life yet. Nor did he know that, as he slept, a guardian angel kept watch over him, a placid, sweet-faced man in a dark leather jacket, or that if he lifted his tired head ever so slightly he would feel the faint rush of starlit wind on his cheek. Gene Hunt lay a wounded warrior in the white hospital bed, his mother's hand on his, and dreamed of the bright red car, this time the driver himself with a curly-haired woman in the passenger seat: every time he tried to speed up, the woman would put her hand on the crook of his arm and he would slow, turning to look at her, drinking in hazel eyes flecked with green as his consciousness refused to tell him whose hauntingly familiar eyes they were.

Tucked up in her own bed at home, Alex's dusky hair blew lightly in a soft breeze too gentle for her to feel as the starlight too bright for her to see shone on her face.

She dreamed of a man with thick blond hair and eyes like stormy jewels, clutching the wheel of a bright red car, his magician's fingers covered by black leather driving gloves. She could not place the eyes, but they drew her in, made every inch of her feel safe, and so she did the same for him, placing her hand on his warm, firm arm every time the firm set of his jaw slipped and the car surged out of control.

She did not hear the door slipping open, or the muffled thud of high heels on her thick carpet, nor see the curly-haired woman with tears sliding down her cheeks cross to the place where she hid her diary and slide her hand down to touch it, stroking the cover as though it were her child's cheek. The tears fell to the floor and stained the carpet red, but the moment they dried they vanished, taking all trace of the lost woman watching the little girl with them.

The door made no sound as it was drawn closed behind her. A church bell tolled midnight somewhere in the distance, and Alex smiled into her pillow, her hand curling round the edge of her duvet as her child's imagination turned it into Gene's slender hand.

"I would hope that we have learnt a lot of things from this exchange, children. We have learnt about tolerance, friendship, other people's lives. Overall, I would hope that we have learnt to co-operate."

Mrs Hingston paused dramatically, her nose pinched as she scanned the crowd of children before her, eyes flicking up and down as each child fell silent under her scrutiny. Gene Hunt she saved for last, her eyes boring into his as he dropped his gaze to his sling, fiddling with the bandage on his arm as Mrs Baker tapped his hand.

"Some of us have learnt rather a lot more than others. Eugene Hunt showed extreme bravery in the face of very possible death, protecting his friend at his own cost, a trait I admire greatly, especially in one so young. I would hope that the rest of you would follow his example and help those around you in need."

Amelia Forester shuffled her feet in the dust, unable to meet Mrs Hingston's eyes; her two cronies melted away from her side, silently slipping in between two other girls from the year above. Alex couldn't help a grin as Mrs Hingston continued, her eyes still on Gene's bowed blond head as Mrs Baker beamed with pride.

"We would have lost a brilliant student had it not been for Eugene's brave and selfless actions. So I ask you to show your appreciation by giving him a round of applause before we depart from each other. Eugene Hunt."

She had barely finished speaking before every child in the crowd was clapping, Alex loudest of all as the huge smile on her face lit it up, Ray whistling and then choking with laughter as Chris tried to copy him and ended up making kissing noises with his lips. William Jamieson was clapping sulkily along, John Carter trying to smile at Gene without William seeing; someone yelled "Speech!", and before Gene could blink the whole ensemble was chanting it, the older kids yelling it to make up for the Year Rs who couldn't quite manage the word and clap at the same time.

"Go on, Gene," Mrs Baker said in his ear, propelling him towards the steps to the podium; Gene hesitated, glancing round at Alex, but one glimpse of the radiant grin on her face gave him the courage to step up and face the crowd, determinedly ignoring the throbbing in his arm from moving around.

"Um. Afternoon."

A chuckle went round his attentive audience; Gene relaxed very slightly. You can do this. Just channel the Gene Genie charm an' yer'll be fine. He hurriedly summoned up his usual cocky self, his chest inflating as he faced the crowd head-on, glowing in the centre of their attentions.

"Yeah, 's been good, this trip. Could've gone better, I s'pose. But at least it was exciting." He flicked his sling, earning another ripple of laughter. "An' sleepin' on the floor isn't all it's cracked up ter be, 'specially when there's a man with a gun outside the door, but Alex seemed alright usin' me as a mattress. An' I 'ave the bruises ter prove it."

This time everyone laughed, except Chris, who was busily trying to work out why getting bruises was something to laugh about.

"But bein' in a situation like that made me think. Mostly 'bout death, unsurprisingly. 'S complicated, death, nobody knows what 'appens after it, an' there's loads of theories, but everyone's different. An' I wasn't scared, but I didn't want ter die… loads ter do still."

Not a whisper from the crowd. Every eye was fixated on the little boy on the podium, taking a deep breath as he figured out what to say next, his own gaze glued to Alex's as he took a deep breath.

"But if yer stick up fer yer friends, I learned, yer should be fine. I stuck up fer Alex, an' she stuck up fer me, even though they 'ad the guns an' she was terrified. If everyone 'as everyone else's back, an' sticks up fer what's right, eventually it turns out OK. Well, my arm 'urts, but that's nothin' compared ter being shot in the 'ead like Alex would 'ave been. Everyone reckons I'm an 'ero, but I'm not sure… I just tried ter 'elp. I didn't want 'er ter die. If that's being an 'ero, then OK. The point I'm tryin' ter make is, yer mates are yer mates, an' yer keep 'em close, 'cos one day they might be yer savin' grace, or even take a bullet for yer. Right, Alex?"

"Right!" Alex yelled, her eyes bright with tears and happiness as the children burst into another round of applause, Ray and Brian leaping forwards to tug Gene onto their shoulders for a victory lap of the playground. Mrs Hingston discreetly wiped a tear from her eye, patting a weeping Mrs Baker on the back as the chant of "Hunt, Hunt, Hunt!" filled the cool still air.

"He's quite something. You must be very proud."

Mrs Baker, beyond words, simply nodded, swiping her nose with her handkerchief as Gene's voice rang out above the rest: "Christopher, yer div, let go of me foot, I'll fall ooaarrrggghhh…"

A/N: Just the epilogue to go now! Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me, I will update as soon as I get back (I'm off on holiday now my exams are over). Please, please, please review… and check out my Tumblr if you want, silverliningdarkcloud.

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