Chapter 10

Gene sat angrily at his desk. He had sent Shaz out to get files for him and was now furiously stewing over the fact that Molly hadn't gone to see her mother. She'd stolen forty quid from him. It was obvious this child wasn't as good as Alex thought she was.

Suddenly, a gun went off in the office. Gene leapt from his seat and ran out of his office looking for the source. An astonished Poirot held a smoking gun in his hands, but Gene hardly noticed this. Alex was on the ground, blood pouring from a wound in her stomach, eyes barely open.

"Alex," he murmured, moving over to her. Gene put his hand over hers, applying pressure on the wound. He looked up savagely at CID.

"Don't just stand there! Terry! Call for an ambulance!" he yelled, noting Terry was closest to a phone. "Ray, grab a tea towel from the kitchen and bring it to me. And you," he said glaring at Poirot with murder in his eyes. "You sit at your desk and don't move an inch. And don't you dare touch that bloody gun again."

CID leapt into action and Gene looked at Alex. "Stay with me, Bolly," he ordered.

"Guv?" she whispered weakly.

"That's right, Alex. You fight. Hang on. Do you understand?"

"Can't see," she mumbled.

"That's because your eyes are shut, you daft mare," he replied.

"Hurts," she whimpered as she fell into unconsciousness.

"Alex?" he called to her, trying to bring her back. "C'mon, Alex! Fight!"

There was no response. "Shit," he muttered as Ray approached with a stack of tea towels.

"Give it," he snapped. Gene pressed the towel against her side, trying not to be alarmed by the amount of blood that was flowing out of her side. Already it was tingeing the second one pink, and all of them had been folded to provide more layers. Maybe it was just his imagination, but as each layer got progressively more scarlet, Alex seemed to grow paler. CID sat in complete silence, all unknowing of what to do.

"Terry! Where's the bloody ambulance?"

"The crew's coming up the stairs now, Guv."

Suddenly the doors burst open as the crew of an ambulance rushed in, a trolley being pushed in front of one, all the others equipped with overfull bags. Gene pretended not to notice as the paramedic paled as he knelt next to Alex.

"Gunshot to the lower left quadrant of the trunk," he announced to the rest of the men. Another one approached Alex with the first and they lifted her on the trolley, wheeling her out even as they started to administer first aid.

"Are you okay, sir?" asked the third man with the group.

"What? Yeah. It's all hers. Where's she going?"

"St. Bart's. It's the closest."

"Good. I'm coming."

"Sir, we don't normally take passengers..."

"I'm not a passenger, I'm her bloody DCI."

Knowing that the battle was already lost, the paramedic merely nodded and gestured out the door.

"Raymondo. You're in charge. Terry, Bammo and Poirot," he said, spitting out the last name. "You three wait here until I get back. You don't go to lunch, you don't go home until I talk to you. I hope to God for your sakes, she comes out of surgery quickly and just peachy."

With that, Gene turned on his heel and marched out the door to the waiting ambulance.

~(*)~

"Molly! Deep breaths!" Tom commanded.

Molly looked at him frantically. "I have to get to St. Bart's! Now!"

It was the only thought on her mind at the moment. She was pushing out all others, all more negative, knowing that they would flood her later.

"It's forever away, Tom. I can't walk there! It's nearly a two hour walk!"

"Molly," he said seriously. "Calm down. There's a tube station about ten minutes away. We'll walk there and take it to the stop by St. Bart's."

Molly nodded.

"Jimmy, tell Kate and the others we may not be home until late. If worse comes to worse and we can't get back tonight, we'll either stay at the hospital or at Luigi's."

Jimmy nodded and turned back to the house, walking at a much slower pace than he had just been going.

"C'mon, Molly."

Tom took her hand and they both started to walk. They were almost running, and ran into at least three people, ignoring the dirty looks as they walked away.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, they reached the Holland Park tube station. They flew down the stairs, turning round the corner to the platform just as a train was arriving. Jumping onto the last coach of the train, they found seats easily and sat down.

The only problem now was that there was nothing to distract Molly from her thoughts.

I'm going to lose Mum again. I was so horrible to her, and now she's going to die again. It's my fault, just like it was three years ago. I can't lose Mum again. Not in this world now too.

Molly closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself down. Suddenly, the conductor's voice came over the tannoy.

"How much did she take?"

"I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure the bottle was full," Evan's voice replied.

Molly frowned, looking at Tom to see if he had heard it. He seemed not to notice anything out of the ordinary, looking at her worriedly.

"What about the paracetamol?"

"That was hers, but when I nicked some off her the other day, it was only about a quarter of the way full."

"Let's get her to the ambulance. Molly? Can you hear me?"

"Molly?" Tom's voice said quietly. Molly jumped and looked at him.

"What?"

"We're at the stop."

Her worry about her mother renewed, Molly jumped up like she'd been shocked and practically ran out of the coach to the stairs.

Finally, they reached St. Bart's and headed over to the A&E. She immediately saw Gene sitting there, blood covering his white shirt. Molly's stomach sunk as she realised the amount that must have flowed out of her mum to cause that kind of stain.

Molly walked straight over to him. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Gene looked up, the anxiousness evident in his eyes. "She was shot in the stomach. It took them a while to stabilise her, but she's in surgery now."

"I heard it wasn't looking good," she said, praying for Gene to correct her.

"She's lost a lot of blood," he said quietly.

Molly sighed fearfully and sat next to him, motioning to Tom to sit next to her. Whatever happened next, they would all hear about it together, and it would decide whether Molly's world could start turning once more.

~(*)~

She had never believed in out of body experiences, but she was having one now. Alex stared at herself on the operating table, stripped naked, a tube coming out of her mouth and a sheet covering her body, except for a small window over her stomach. Music was playing softly in the background and a hushed conversation was going on over her body.

"Clipped the aorta," said one of the surgeons. "No wonder she's lost so much blood."

"Clamp," said the other surgeon. A nurse handed it to him, and the surgeon inserted it into the hole made slightly wider by a scalpel.

"What happened to her anyway?" asked a second nurse, who was walking around with a clipboard.

"From what I gather someone in her office was playing with a gun and shot it, not realising there were still bullets in it," said the second surgeon.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the anaesthesiologist. "And this is our police force?"

"Apparently," said the first. "Gives you a lot of faith in them, doesn't it?"

The group laughed as the music changed. Alex froze as she heard David Bowie's Ashes to Ashes start playing on the radio. Not that song. Anything but that song. She had to get out of there, but it was like she was stuck. Something was tethering her to the room.

"SHIT!" one of the surgeons yelled. "Get me the clamp! Now! Faster!"

All of a sudden the feeling of being tethered to the room disappeared as she started floating away from the room. She watched the doctors working frantically as their machines started alarming.

I'm dying, she thought suddenly. She was strangely calm with this idea as she floated through the hallways of the hospital. It felt almost like she was swimming and the further she got away from her body, the easier it was to move.

Alex floated to the waiting room of the A&E, stopping for a moment as she realised she knew people in there. Gene was sitting impatiently, his shirt covered in blood and a cup of tea in his hands. Two seats down was a boy of about sixteen with dark hair and eyes that she knew she'd seen in Luigi's. He had his arm around a girl in the middle, one that she recognised immediately.

"Molly," she whispered happily. Molly had come to see her.

Molly had looked up when Alex muttered her name. The boy looked at her. "You okay, Felicitá?"

"How can you call me that now? I'm not happy," she muttered.

"But there will be happiness that comes from this, Molly," he murmured. "Your mum will fight."

"I can't lose her again," she replied, tears forming in her eyes.

The boy pulled her close, kissing her temple. A feeling of jealousy started to work through her. It should be her comforting Molly, not that boy.

Suddenly, something tugged at her around her midriff and she moved towards the operating room. Instead of letting it tug her bodily again, she started floating back. Now however, she was moving freely, instead of forcing her way through the feeling of water. Soon she was back in the operating room, where the doctors and nurses all stood, panic on every face.

"Once more," the second surgeon said. "Clear!" he called before pressing the electrified paddles to her chest.

Pain radiated through her body. Then there was nothing but darkness.

~(*)~

Molly stared at the clock that seemed to be going slower with each passing minute. How long had it been since the last update? Three hours? What was taking so long? Was her mum okay?

Gene shifted nervously next to her. That was one thing that amazed her; how much Gene actually cared. He had seemed like such a brute when she had first met him, but there was a deeper side to this man. Molly was starting to realise that there was some human hidden beneath the copper and that was what her mother had fallen in love with.

Tom was out getting more tea for the small group, so she decided to talk to Gene a little more. "You're really worried about her," she said.

"Course I am," he replied gruffly. "She's my DI."

"There's something more than that though. I have a feeling if that man with the perm was your DI, you would have given CID a bollocking before coming to the hospital instead of waiting until afterwards.

She saw Gene consider this reply, but he said nothing.

"Is there something between you and Mum?"

"Nothing. We went for a date once, but she was convinced that she was leaving the next day. We haven't done anything since."

"If...when she makes it through this, you should ask her out again."

Gene looked at her. "Thought you hated me."

"You seem more human now. When you're not in copper mode."

"Coppers can't be human sometimes."

"Coppers should always be human. It's when they lose that that the public start hating them. Just because you enforce the law doesn't mean you can commit GBH on every suspect you ever interview."

Gene said nothing again. "Your mum thinks like that as well."

"We're very modern thinkers," Molly replied without a trace of irony in her voice.

"I can tell that. You should hear your mum talking about bloody fudge-packers."

"I believe they're called gay, Gene."

"Yeah. Them."

Suddenly a nurse walked into the room, heading for Gene. Both he and Molly stood, and the nurse looked hesitantly at Molly.

"She's Alex's daughter," Gene said flatly. The nurse nodded.

"She's just come out of surgery. Her abdominal aorta was clipped, which was why she lost so much blood. Along with that, the small intestine was perforated. Barring any infections, she should be fine. You can go see her now if you want."

Molly and Gene looked at each other. "Tom," she said.

"You go. I'll talk to Tom when he gets back."

Molly nodded and followed the nurse out of the waiting room.

"Very nice man. Is he your father?"

Molly shook her head. "He's mum's boss. I'm just warming up to him myself."

The nurse merely nodded, continuing to walk along a maze of corridors. "Here we are," she said, stopping. "Don't mind all the tubes, they're all there to help her."

Molly nodded, before entering the room. Her first reaction was relief. Sure, her mum was hooked up to tubes and wires, but it was nothing compared to 2008.

A bag of blood hung from one hook, and two different clear solutions hanging from others, all flowing into an IV. Her heart was being monitored, but that was the extent of the medical equipment. There was no ventilator and the plaster was invisible underneath the hospital gown and blanket.

"I'm so sorry, Mum," she whispered, grabbing her mother's hand. Tears started to fall from her eyes and she let them. She didn't care anymore. "I just want you back," she murmured. "The Molly and Mum show again. I want to steal your files; I want to beg you to make biscuits. They say you're supposed to get better this time. I really hope you do Mum. I haven't been fair, and I don't think killing myself in this world will take me to you again. Please, don't die this time," she ended, whispering.

There was no reply from her mother, still unconscious from the sedatives, and probably lethargic from lack of blood.

The curtain opened. "Time's up, love. I'm sorry," the nurse said. Molly nodded, letting go of her mother's hand.

"I'll be back tomorrow Mum. Every day, just like I used to. She kissed her mother on the cheek and walked out of the room, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. Her mother would make it this time around. She had to.