A/N - again thanks so much for the great reviews... I hope you continue to enjoy this story. :) DHF aka KoB XX

"You mean to tell me you've met Layton before?" Gene frowned and downed the last of his pint. He looked across the table at Alex, who was still pale from what had just happened upstairs.

"Yes," she said, her eyes narrow. She didn't quite know how to have this conversation. Despite knowing that Gene had been sharing her strange visions, she wasn't sure he was ready for the time-travelling cop saga. Keep it simple Alex she thought.

"I was called in on a, uhh…situation involving him while back. Before I came here I mean. That was why was I was interested to learn he was snouting for you. Of course, we now know he was involved in the death of the Prices so I have a legitimate reason for tracking him down…"

"'Ang on Bols," Gene interrupted. "We don't have any evidence 'e was involved with that car bombing. An' even if we did, we have no bloody idea where 'e is! Whaddya wanna track 'im down for anyway?"

"That may be so Gene, but he is the key to this. He is the key to me getting back to my daughter." She had a pleading look on her face, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. Gene looked at her.

"There's still something you're not telling me."

They were sitting in their usual corner of Luigi's, pretending to eat his special prawn linguini; neither of them was particularly hungry. The others hadn't yet put in an appearance. "Must be doin' some bloody work for a change," Gene had muttered. A candle flickered in the middle of the table, highlighting the lines of worry on his face as he watched Alex push her food around her plate absent-mindedly. He raised his arm to attract Luigi's attention and the restaurant owner came over straight away.

"Ah 'allo Signor Hunt." He beamed and turned to Alex. "And how is the beautiful Alexandra this evening?"

Alex continued staring at her plate, her fork now poised, unmoving in one hand. Luigi raised his eyebrows and looked back at Gene, who just shook his head and mouthed "Not now." Then he spoke loudly, "We're fandabydozy Luigi. Now how about another pint?"

Luigi took the empty glass and walked sadly back to the bar.

"Bolly."

Gene reached across the table and took the fork from Alex's hand. The contact broke her from her reverie and she looked down where his fingers now intertwined with hers. He stroked her with his thumb. "Bolly," he said again.

Alex sighed. Her gaze met his and she opened her mouth. "OK. Here's what I think happened. Layton shot me. I'm either dead, or in a coma and I'm dreaming all of this." She paused. "Or… this is some kind of afterlife. Or… I travelled back in time." She sat back in her chair, breaking the contact of their hands and staring at her plate. She steeled herself for the tirade of ridicule she felt certain was coming her way.

Silence.

"And this is what happened at Bankside?" Gene finally said, eyeing her.

"Yes. Only it's a modern art museum now. The Tate."

"Well, that just about sums up the poncey-arsed way the bloody country is goin'!" Gene observed. He leaned his face on the palm of one hand, his elbow resting on the table. "So all this mad stuff appearing in my 'ead… the portable phones, the fairground wheel, Batman in Westminster… is from the future?"

"Yes. Well, that is, unless I am merely imagining you imagining it in my head as some kind of way of reminding myself I'm alive."

"Hmm…" Gene paused. "And you an' me? Married?"

"No. You made that bit up. Or I did. Or we both did."

Gene put his other elbow on the table and lowered his head to his hands. He stayed like that for a few minutes, and then dragged his palms down his face. As he raised his head, he noticed Luigi had brought his second pint. Grabbing the glass, he flung down a healthy swig, letting out a long breath as the cold liquid wet his throat. He really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that he wanted to help her. He tried to push aside the knowledge that if he succeeded she would be lost to him – he had to do what was right for her and her daughter.

"So what are we gonna do?" he asked eventually.

"We?"

"Well yeah…" Gene considered. "You said we were in this together." He leaned forward and held his hand out to her.

Alex stayed where she was, still looking at him. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she remembered Molly's words in the television screen. "We have to stop, Gene."

"Stop what?"

"This, I presume, you and me. Us."

"I don't see how that's gonna make any difference," Gene protested. His heart was racing now. He knew he had to lose her but please God let it be later rather than sooner.

Alex looked at him in desperation. "What am I doing Gene? I'm fighting for my life and getting sidetracked. This is all so out of character for me, it's like I'm losing myself." Gene looked at her, confused. She continued, her voice shaking. "I'm having sex - unprotected sex at that, something I would NEVER do - with a man 10 years my senior; who also happens to be my superior officer, and who, for all I know, isn't even real, AND with whom, despite his violence and ignorance and excessive drinking, I have fallen completely in love. I'm trapped!"

Gene swallowed hard. He was beginning to understand.

"Loving you just makes it harder to leave, Gene," Alex said sadly. "But I have to. I have to find Layton and I have to get home."

She pushed her chair back from the table and, choking down a sob, ran from the restaurant. Gene didn't follow. His heart was broken, but he knew what he had to do. He had almost finished his pint when he heard the rabble of the CID team outside the restaurant. They'd been playing football and Chris, having miraculously scored the winning goal, was being carried down the stairs to jubilant whoops and cheers. A hilarious scene followed as they all tried to squeeze through the narrow trattoria doors.

Gene looked up to see Ray beaming as he walked towards him, muddy football in hand and his cheeks still rosy with the effects of fresh air and victory. "Guv, Guv!" he said excitedly. "We nailed 'em good 'n proper, 3-2!"

"That's great Ray." Gene sounded less than enthused.

"It were a pushover Guv, they were all over the place." Ray started to act out a set piece, gesturing with his arms and legs. "We got the corner, an' Lewis took it - football gold it was Guv, straight to my 'ead, I dropped it down, shimmied it over an' Chris were lined up right there… off 'is left foot… It were…"

"Ray, Ray," Gene interrupted. "I'm sure it was worthy of the great Pele 'imself..." He pulled Ray over to one side and spoke in a low voice. "Ray, listen to me. I need you to do me a favour. Soon as you've got cleaned up I need you back in CID."

Ray's face fell. He'd been so looking forward to getting trolleyed and reliving the glory of the match with the rest of the boys. "What's up Guv?"

"I can't tell you much Raymondo, you're just gonna 'ave to trust me on this one. I need you to get as much on Arthur Layton as possible. The 'ole lot. Previous, current, outstanding warrants, everythin'. I need that bastard nailed before sundown tomorrow."

Ray looked confused but nodded assent. "A'right Guv." He turned to leave, but Gene grabbed his arm.

"Not a word about this to anyone," he said. "Not even Chris."

Ray nodded silently and walked away as Gene gestured to Luigi. "Whisky."

Upstairs, Alex had drawn a bath and was sitting, dressed only in her black satin robe, in the middle of the floor. She was surrounded by scraps of paper, notes and business cards, photographs and newspaper cuttings, and her own calendar, still with the blood-marked question mark over the day Shaz nearly died. Molly sat in silence behind her as she pored over all the evidence she had accumulated, trying to make some desperate sense of it all. Memories and images flicked through her mind: where had Layton gone when the car had exploded? The pain of watching it all again had seared through her. As she fell to her knees all thoughts of Layton escaped her mind - a scream ripped from her lungs with the unbearable loss of her mother all over again. In the hollow moments of grief that followed, her mind had turned to Gene: her saviour, her protector. The case remained unsolved – with no evidence to convict the former drug lord, the files had closed and the Prices' deaths had been put down to one of any number of grudges against them.

She shifted, folding her legs underneath her and pulling the corner of her robe over her knees. Maybe Evan… she thought.

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Molly disappeared as Alex turned her head and scrambled to her feet, pulling the robe around her as she opened the door. Gene stood, his arms outstretched, leaning on the door-frame: his hair flopped slightly over one eye; his tie-less shirt undone about 3 buttons. Alex just made out the glint of his gold chain before she was met by the dark peaty aroma of whisky. She smiled at him, in spite of herself.

"Ello Bols." He said. "Can I come in?" He was already halfway through the door before the question was out. He turned to face her, moving close until her back was against the door. He stood an inch away from her, his eyes on her, gaze dropping from her face to the V of her robe, and further down, his eye hungrily taking in the pale skin of her thigh. He reached around and took his suit jacket off, throwing it on the floor. Alex watched him, her breath quickening, as he slipped one finger under the neckline of the robe, gradually sliding it down and pulling the material towards him. His eyes followed his hand, surveying each exposed inch of skin, the curve of her breast and the goosebumps now appearing there. As his finger slid lower, the loose knot at her waist came free and the robe fell open. Gene could not contain a sharp intake of breath at the beauty now before him. Without speaking, he trailed the tip of his finger across one breast, the nipple responding to his touch. He continued, leaving tiny sparks in his wake as he touched her stomach. Alex steadied herself against the door, parting her thighs for him. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Gene dropped to his knees in front of her. With both arms round her waist, he pressed his cheek to her belly – he closed his eyes, and let his other senses take over. Her warmth and scent enveloped him as he turned and placed open-mouthed kisses on her skin, further and further down, until his tongue pushed between her lips. Circling her clit, he sucked and kissed her, making love to her with his tongue, until she felt her legs would give way. He felt her tense and shudder, giving a brief yell before her legs buckled. Gene leapt up to meet her, cradling her in his arms, her naked breasts pressed harder against him with every stolen breath. "I've got you," he whispered. "For now at least." He tried to smile, as he lifted her face towards his. They kissed deeply before Alex grabbed his hand and led him towards the bathroom. "Come on!" she giggled. She saw him look with puzzled interest at the collection of cuttings and photos on the floor. "Never mind all that. Now, DCI Hunt. Strip."

Alex hopped into the bath, sinking down into the bubbles. The rosy peaks of her nipples floated teasingly at the surface of the water as she eyed Gene, pointing to each item of clothing, indicating which one was to come off next. He looked vaguely uncomfortable as, despite the forgiving glow of the candles, he was very conscious of his less-than-perfect physique. "Come on Alex," he growled, just wishing they could go to bed together.

She pouted up at him, her eyes dark. "MmMMM," she said, lifting one long and perfect leg out of the water and hanging it over the side of the bath. The other leg slowly followed, water and bubbles slipping from her shapely limb as her foot came to rest on the baths' other edge. Gene swallowed hard, watching her as she ran a hand down between her legs, resting a while under the water before she raised it to her mouth and placed one finger between her lips, tasting herself. Gene felt he had never been more turned on in his life. The remaining clothes flew from his body before he lowered himself into the water, between Alex's legs, facing away from her as per her instruction. He leaned back against her: his head rested on her shoulder as her arms and legs wound around him… holding his body there close to hers she stroked and caressed him, coaxing him to orgasm in the warm scented water of the bath, kissing the back of his neck and whispering little declarations of desire in his ear. For a moment the world slipped away, the enormity and danger of the task ahead left her and everything was perfect.

Across town, Arthur Layton sat huddled in the squat of one of his former street dealers. His hair hung limp and damp, framing his pallid face, eyes screwed up as he listened in on the faint and crackling police radio transmissions. They were circling. They were out to get him – he had known it wouldn't be long before Alex Drake set the dogs on him, just a matter of sitting and waiting. But now the time was coming to finish this. He spat on the floor with disgust, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He carefully placed 6 bullets into the chamber of his pistol, spinning the smooth mechanism round and round and speaking quietly to himself. "Time to make your phone ring, little Alex."