Two days had passed since Alex and her imaginary DCI had made love. Its inevitability had been apparent to both of them but neither had been prepared for the revelations and the confusion that would follow. Later that morning, Alex had dressed quickly and silently, slipping out the door undetected by her lover. A second after he heard the door close however, Gene had opened his eyes and sat up, reaching for his trousers and pulling a packet of cigarettes and his lighter from the pocket.

His mind was spinning as he tried to make sense of it all: the things he'd seen and felt. He may not have had Bolly's upper-crust education, but Gene Hunt was no idiot. He was a pragmatist and he believed, no, knew, that none of it could be true. He couldn't have seen the future, not even in dreams. He let out a long breath of smoke and flicked ash into his palm, glancing to the foot of the bed where Alex's discarded underwear from last night still lay on the floor. "Bloody 'ell Gene Hunt," he muttered to himself, not daring to think any further than that. He placed his cigarette between his lips and pulled the duvet back. Time for work.

An ongoing investigative partnership with Special Branch had kept Alex out of the office for a couple of days, much to Gene's annoyance and her own secret relief. She knew the conversation that was coming, but was thankful to be able to put it off at least for the time being. Tired and seeking solitude, she had crept up the back stairs to her flat, avoiding the drunken rabble in Luigi's. It was her day off the next day and she fully intended to catch up on some sleep: she knew she would need all her strength to solve the new puzzle now preventing her from returning home to Molly and her life in 2008. She sank into bed and fell immediately into a dreamless sleep.

Downstairs in the bar, Gene threw back his last mouthful of red wine and reached for the bottle to fill his glass once more. At the table next to him, Chris and Ray were serenading Shaz with a tuneless rendition of "O sole mio", much to Luigi's dismay. Gene shook his head ruefully and gazed at the flickering candle flame: he'd had one hell of day and now it didn't look like Alex was going to put in an appearance for the second night running.

He'd been sitting in the Quattro, parked outside CID waiting for Chris and Ray to join him, when his radio and crackled and buzzed to life. Through the static a voice he didn't recognise was trying to speak to him: Gene fiddled with the dials – a poppy-sounding tune suddenly blasted simultaneously on the police radio and the car radio, "Let's all meet up in the year 2000… won't it be strange when we're all fully gro-o-own," the singer crooned. The noise was deafening as Gene frantically tried to turn it off. When he did, his heart was pounding and a sweat had broken out on his forehead. He tried to regain composure as he spoke into the radio "Speak! This is DCI Gene Hunt, now 'oo the 'ell are you?"

"Sir, you MUST come now, I repeat, NOW - South Bank, by the power station, a gunman has taken a female hostage. Over"

"On me way." Gene snarled back into the radio, firing up the engine and swearing under his breath, "Where the bloody 'ell…?"

Just at that moment, Chris and Ray appeared at the station door, apparently not in any hurry. "Get a bloody move on you pair o' tits!" Gene roared, pushing open the door. The two officers bundled in just in time before the car barrelled off in the direction of the river.

It was a cloudy overcast day: the sky brooded over the murky brown waters of the Thames and the top of the main chimney of the power station could barely be seen through the bluish mist. The Quattro screeched to a halt: Gene leapt out, gun in hand, and dashed towards the embankment. Ray flung the passenger door wide open and raced after the DCI as Chris scrambled out of the back seat.

Gene reached the railing and leaned on it, catching his breath. He swung round to face the empty waste ground in front of the looming brick building and watched Ray run towards him. "Guv, what the 'ell's goin' on? What we 'ere for?" the DS gasped as he bent over and leaned on his knees. Gene said nothing, his face set in a frown. There was nobody there. No gunman, no hostage, no uniform. Not a single living soul bar himself and his two junior officers, the younger of which was now walking casually towards them, looking confused. "Guv?" he questioned.

"It appears, ladies, that someone is yanking my chain," he spat. "Now I don't know 'oo but when I find out they're gonna wish their mother had kept 'er knickers pinned to 'er vest!"

He turned and looked across the river: a coal barge was grunting its way through the choppy waves and on the other side of the water, the gilt cross on top of St Paul's dome caught a stray sunbeam and glowed supernaturally. There was the distant hum of traffic in the city centre. "Right, you two," he said, turning to find Ray halfway through lighting a fag. "Get your arses round the back of here and see if you can see anything. I'm gonna try and find out who sent us 'ere!"

Chris and Ray made off in the direction of the defunct power station. It wasn't that long since it had closed down and it still stood proudly and rather sadly overlooking the river although its doors were barricaded shut. Hazard warning tape flew from the surrounding metal barriers like streamers and weeds were beginning to grow from the brickwork and gutters. The two men found a gap in the barriers and squeezed through before running round the side of the building, guns drawn.

Gene strode over to the car, tutting as he noticed Chris had left the passenger door wide open. He climbed inside and opened the glove box, rooting around for the hipflask he knew was inside. He closed his fingers round it and pulled it out, before taking a deep swig and wiping his mouth with the back of one leather-gloved hand. He picked up the police radio and fiddled with the knobs, trying to contact Viv back at the station. Nothing. The radio was completely dead. "Oh buggering 'ell," Gene cursed. Just then, out of the corner of his eye he caught a pair of eyes in the rear-view mirror. He jumped and immediately turned round. There was no-one in the back seat. His heart was racing as he turned forward again and looked in the mirror. There was a young girl, of about 12, staring back at him with large hazel eyes. She had long flyaway mousy brown hair, tied back in a ponytail. Her skin was pale, save for a distinctive birthmark on her left cheek and she wore an expression of calm indifference. Gene blinked and turned around again – still no-one there. "For God's sake Hunt, get a grip. You're seein' things now!" he swore at himself. But when he turned back, the girl was still in the mirror with the same calm expression. Suddenly she spoke. "This is where it happens," she said; and was gone.

"Guv! GUV!" Ray was knocking on the car window, trying to shout through the glass. "GUV!"

Gene snapped out of himself and glared at Ray. "Well, bloody get in then!" he barked.

"Can't Guv, it's locked!" Chris shouted back.

"EH?" Gene reached over and flipped the lock, pushing the door open. I didn't lock the car doors. Chris and Ray climbed in.

Ray looked at his DCI's face, which was completely drained of all colour. "You a'right?" he frowned. "Did you get hold of the station?" He picked up the radio and started fiddling with it.

Gene turned the key in the ignition and put his foot down. "No, Raymondo, I am most certainly NOT alright." He saw the DS open his mouth to ask more. "Conversation OVER!" he yelled as they sped back to Fenchurch East. When they arrived back at the station, Gene tossed the radio over the front desk to a startled Viv. "Do none of these things bloody work?" he demanded as he strode off down the corridor to his office. He had just reached the door when Viv called after him. "Guv, of course it's not working – it's got no battery in it!"

Gene picked up the now empty bottle of wine and shambled over to the bar. Luigi looked at him, concerned, but he just held a hand up to the Italian man's face. "Really, I'm not in the mood. Now, just give me another of these." He pointed to the bottle. "To go." He added. He paid for the wine and then made his way out the restaurant into the chill night air. He glanced up at Alex's window, but the light was off.

"Bolly," he sighed quietly, putting the key in the car door.

Alex slept late the next morning, waking only when the phone rang insistently from the next room. There were only three people in this world who knew her number and one of them – her mother - was no longer there. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. She couldn't imagine why Evan White would be calling her and she certainly didn't want to speak to Gene at the moment.

The ringing stopped and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. She threw the covers over her head to block out the sunlight and as she did so, she caught the scent of Gene, where they had slept together limbs entwined, just two nights before. She had barely spoken to him since. She allowed herself to remember him, naked, his mouth on hers, hands caressing her body as he pushed inside her. She felt heat growing between her legs as she turned over and slipped one hand inside her pyjamas. When she came, it was him she pictured: his eyes on hers, their souls pressed together. For an instant, she wished he was there with her, so she could feel that connection again.

"Pick up the bloody phone Alex," Gene murmured, his ears filled with the fruitless ringing on the other end of the line. He was in his office with the door shut, eyeing Chris and Ray through the blinds in case either of them approached the door. "Just pick it up, I need to talk to you," he willed her. Nothing. The ring was replaced once more by the dialling tone, before he eventually flung the receiver back into its heavy plastic cradle.

"Right." he said, picking up his coat and striding out towards the main doors. "Lunchtime a'ready boss?" Chris asked him, lifting his jacket from the back of his chair. Gene stopped him. "No. I'm goin' out. Company not required." The doors swung shut behind him.

Alex stood in the shower, letting the hot water stream down on her. Some went in her mouth and she giggled, spitting it out. She remembered washing Molly's hair when she was younger, how the child would fill her mouth with water and then put her lips into a spout and press her cheeks together. They had both ended up soaked many times because of that game. "Oh Molly…" Alex sighed, running her hands through her hair and rinsing the rest of the shampoo out. "I promise you I'm coming back." But even as the words left her lips she believed them less and less. The truth was she had no idea what to do or how to get back home. When she'd arrived in 1981 she was convinced she knew the drill, but none of the signs and messages Sam Tyler had experienced had been forthcoming – now there was the added complication of her construct apparently having visions of the future. She wondered briefly if this was her own brain reminding her of her life back in 2008. Just then the water ran cold, Alex felt her blood chill and drain from her limbs: she leaned against the tiles, gasping. Her vision blurred as she placed both palms on the shower screen and, with the last of her strength, she screamed – through the misted glass she could just make out the creeping outline of Pierrot.

Gene heard her blood-curdling scream from halfway up the stairs from the restaurant: immediately he began running, his long legs taking the steps two at a time. He hammered the door with his fist. Without even stopping to yell, he shouldered the door. It flung open in a fit of flying metal and splintered wood as the DCI burst through it: he swung round frantically looking for Alex. "Bolly… BOLLY!" he yelled as he flew from room to room, panic rising in his chest.

He followed the sound of the water. Tearing through to the bathroom he could make out the pale shape of Alex's body, slumped against the glass. His heart was in his mouth as he flung open the shower cabinet and reached up to turn the water off before kneeling down and cradling Alex in his arms. He spoke urgently, "Alex, ALEX can you hear me? ALEX!!" Her voice faintly mumbled back but he couldn't make out words. She was alive and breathing, just disorientated and cold: Gene couldn't contain his relief and, as he tenderly picked up her limp naked body, faint tears threatened to come.

He pulled her close to him as he carried her through to her bedroom. Drops of water fell from her hair, soaking his shoulder as goosebumps appeared on her skin. Her teeth started to chatter as she whispered his name over and over. Gene pushed the bedroom door open with his foot but as he carried Alex through the scene suddenly changed: the bedroom was different.

The walls had no wallpaper on, but were painted a deep teal colour… an ornate stone fireplace … the floor underfoot was varnished hardwood. Above the huge dark wooden bed there was a painting… St Bride, carried across the sea by angels… the room was flooded with the rich cherry glow of a summer sunset. He looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms… she was dressed a simple cream satin dress, shoulders bare, her hair wrapped into a seductive chignon.. smoky eyes laughed up at him, "I might well be Mrs Hunt, 'Gene'," she gestured with her fingers, "But I'm still Detective Inspector Alex Drake!" … he carried her over to the bed, "We'll see about that!" he teased…he slipped his hands up under her dress, teasing one clip of her suspender belt undone.

Shocked, Gene looked down at the still naked, shivering Alex on the bed in front of him. "Christ!" he swore, grabbing a towel and a blanket from the chest of drawers behind him. He wrapped her in the blanket and rubbed her hair dry, before lying down close to her and wrapping his body round hers to transfer heat. What the hell just happened there? "Bolly, I have to get you dressed and to the hospital, ok?" he spoke softly to her. "Gene, no…" she whispered. "There's nothing they can do. I'm dying." Tears filled her eyes. "Just stay, stay with me until I go." She reached up and took his face in her hands. "You have to let me go."

Alex laid her head against Gene's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Surely this was it, this time? He father had come for her. She was dying, here, now, in Gene's arms.

"I loved you," she whispered, before her eyes closed.