Disclaimer: BBC, Monastic and Kudos own Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes. Not me, unfortunately.

Thanks once again to all readers and reviewers! Sorry for the delay in posting this, I had to give priority to a couple of music reviews with short deadlines. Real life getting in the way again…

More angst now, but of a different sort.

It had been a team effort.

Chris, already halfway down the restaurant stairs when the shooting started, had bellowed to Luigi to call an ambulance before the last shots had even died away, and it had arrived within minutes. Shaz and the distraught Gene had administered CPR until the paramedics took over. Ray, crouched to one side of the main group, had drawn his pistol and shot out the rear tyres and rear window of the gunman's car. It had swerved and crashed into a lamppost, and as the gunman and his driver dazedly tried to climb out of the wreckage, they were overwhelmed by a tide of yelling, raging cops. CID had just seen one of their own gunned down, and they knew no mercy. By the time the bruised and battered suspects had been hauled into the Fenchurch East interview room to be questioned by a grim-faced Ray, they were falling over themselves to confess.

It was the Cales' hitman.

He had gone to ground following his employers' arrest. Chaz had died in prison, and Joan was out for revenge on the team who had put him there. She had arranged the whole operation from prison, making coded phone calls to one of Chaz's old contacts. Now Joan, the hitman and the driver all awaited trial, and they were expected to go down for a long time. Questions were being asked in high places about the security of Her Majesty's prisons, when an inmate could organise a hit while behind bars. The governer of Joan's prison had been suspended pending an investigation. Normally Gene would have relished all this, but now he was lost to everything except the woman who lay unmoving on a hospital bed, in a deep coma.

He never left her side.

Chris and Shaz, arguing in relays, had tried to persuade him to go home and get a few hours' desperately needed sleep while they kept watch, but he refused, and when they persisted he said, quite gently, "I know you both mean well, but I can't leave 'er, y'see? What if she wakes up while I'm gone and asks for me?" They knew better than to try again.

He was on compassionate leave.

It was understood that the possibility of losing a second DI, so soon after Sam Tyler's tragic death, had completely unnerved him. Under normal circumstances the hospital would not have allowed him to remain with her around the clock because they were not related, but he had represented that she had no family, and that he was not only her superior officer but also the only close friend she had, and he had been allowed to stay.

He talked to her incessantly.

He remembered what Sam had said about the importance of trying to communicate with coma patients, and he spoke to her about cases they had solved together, their quarrels and disagreements, their successes and failures, their endless discussions at Luigi's, the weather, anything he could think of. Everyone else in CID helped, of course, taking it in turns to drop in to talk to her while the exhausted Gene dozed in a chair beside the bed. Shaz, especially, did sterling service, chattering away for hours at a time while Gene rested. Luigi called in regularly with supplies of food for Gene, and would sit talking to Alex for half an hour or so. Chris donated his Walkman and spent hours copying her favourite LPs onto tapes so that, during the night, Gene could put the earphones over her head, switch the Walkman on, and leave it to play while he snatched a few moments' sleep.

He could not bring her the one person whose voice might reach her.

Alex had often mentioned a daughter, but Gene knew nothing about her, not even whether her surname was Drake, much less where she lived or who was looking after her in Alex's absence. Alex had been vague whenever the subject came up. Gene asked Shaz to look up Alex's personnel record in case it held any clues, but there was nothing, not even contact details for next of kin. After her coma had lasted for five days, Gene was desperate enough to swallow his pride and ask Shaz to ring Evan's office to find out if he knew anything.

The following morning, Evan visited the hospital. When he arrived Gene was asleep, leaving Chris to keep watch and talk to Alex. Motioning to Chris not to disturb Gene, Evan took a spare chair and sat quietly talking to Alex until Gene awakened. Chris glanced nervously from one man to the other, but Gene nodded to Evan to continue. After a few minutes, Evan said goodbye to Alex and rose from his chair. Gene also rose, shook his hand, and said gruffly, "Thanks for coming, White."

They moved away out of earshot of Chris. "I got your message. I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you at all," said Evan. " I remember her mentioning a daughter, but I don't know anything at all about her. Why did you think that I would know?"

"You and she appear to be close," said Gene awkwardly. "I thought she might 'ave told you."

"I think you overestimate the closeness of our relationship," Evan replied quietly. "She seems to look on me as a father figure or a favourite uncle. She comes to me when she wants advice or when she wants to discuss something that's troubling her. We had dinner once, but that was all. Believe me, Hunt, it's you she needs now, not me."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Look, I don't like saying this, and it isn't easy for me, but this isn't the time for petty rivalries, what matters is Alex. It's true, I could have wished to get closer to her, but she hasn't wanted that. Especially since the Prices died. She thinks more of you than you know. I think that, if anyone is going to get her out if this, it'll be you. It's good that you're here for her. But if there's any other way I can help, please let me know."

Gene muttered something unintelligible, they shook hands again, and Evan left. Gene walked back to Alex's bed, his mind whirling. Never in his life had he thought that he might actually want Evan White to be right about something. Could he be right? Or was the smarmy git trying to be tactful? Come on, Gene, that's not fair, his weary mind told him. You asked him for his help and he took the time and the trouble to come here. He didn't have to do that.

As he neared the bed, Chris, not noticing his approach, was talking softly to Alex.

"Come on, Ma'am, it's not like you to give up. Don't you remember when you came to see Shaz here? Fight, Shaz, you told her, and she did. So should you."

Poor Chris, Gene thought, this is tough for him too. It brings it all back to him, that time when we thought we were going to lose Shaz. If it hadn't been for Bolly, we would have done. But he froze at Chris's next words.

"The Guv's breaking his heart over you, you know. None of us have ever seen him like this. Not even Ray, and he's known him longest. You've got to wake up for him. He needs you, and we all know how you feel about him."

"What do all of you know?"

Fatigue made his voice sound even sterner than he had intended, and Chris jumped like a startled rabbit.

"Oh, er, sorry, Guv. I didn't know you were there -"

"I don't 'ave to be Brain of Britain to work that one out, and you 'aven't answered my question."

"Er, well, Guv, Shaz says - er, she says that the way the Boss looks at you, and the way she looks when she's talking about you, it's obvious that she's, er, she's -"

"What?"

"Er, crazy - about you, Guv, that is, er -"

"That'll do. I asked for an answer, not bloody War and Peace. You can trot along to the station now. I'll take the next shift. And - thanks, Chris."

Chris made his escape, blushing like a girl and feeling grateful not to have been torn limb from limb. Gene sank into the chair by the bed and began talking, his mouth on auto-pilot while he struggled to marshal his thoughts.

Could it be true that Alex felt something for him? Could the man he despised, a man with the IQ of a mentally deficient hedgehog, and a lobotomised Essex girl all have noticed something that the great Gene Genie had failed to see? Of course she had flirted with him outrageously, and on one memorable occasion had thrown herself at him when she was so drunk that his sense of chivalry had made him turn her down. He had known then, and since, that he had done the right thing, much though he had subsequently regretted it during many wakeful, lonely nights. But whenever he had made her so much as a tentative offer she had made it clear - or so he thought - that she had no interest in him. Women. Always was baffled by them. Does that mean I should have taken a no as a yes, and risked copping her left hook again? What signs had he missed that the others had seen? He desperately needed to think this through clearly, but he was all too aware that his mind was fogged with exhaustion. He had been surviving on catnaps since the shooting six days ago.

"Signor Hunt?"

He looked up. "Luigi! The very man."

Luigi looked towards the bed. "There is no change?"

"I'm afraid not, not yet. Thanks for comin'."

"Think nothing of it, Signor Hunt. I have brought you your food for the day."

"Thanks. What's the damage?"

"Don't think about that now. I'll add it to your tab, and you can settle up later. When she is well."

"Thanks, Luigi, I won't forget this. Tell me, 'ow come you can spend so much time 'ere when you 'ave a restaurant to run?"

Luigi smiled. "We do not open until eleven, and the staff know how to prepare the restaurant for the day without my presence. The important thing is that I am there to greet the diners when they arrive and see to their wishes. Just as I have done so many times when you and the beautiful Signora Drake have sat at your corner table." He lowered his voice. "I know that she will sit there with you again. You must not give up hope, Signor Hunt. She needs you."

"Christ, you're the third person to say somethin' like that to me in the past 'alf hour! What is it with the lot of you?"

Luigi smiled again. "Maybe we can all see a truth that you have not yet faced, perhaps because you have not wished to, perhaps because you have not dared."

"Luigi, 'ave mercy on a man who's forgotten what 'is own bed looks like and spit it out!"

The older man looked down at the younger. "The two of you are so like one another. Both stubborn, proud, strong, vulnerable, unable to speak for fear of appearing to be weak or of being hurt. Yet I believe that if you were lying here and she were watching over you, she would have told you by now what she feels for you, in the hope that you would hear her and come back to her."

"What she - ?"

"Is that not what others have been telling you? Maybe you need to awaken to the truth in her heart and in your own, before you can awaken her. None of your colleagues will tell you because they fear your anger and your ridicule, but the worst that you can do to me is to stop coming to my restaurant. Tell her what is in your heart. Perhaps she will hear you and come back to you. "

Gene looked away uncomfortably. "Yeah, thanks. I'll think about that."

"Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. Pardon me. I'll speak to her while you eat your breakfast."

Gene began to eat while Luigi sat and talked to Alex, letting the Italian's gentle, lilting voice lull him. Afterwards he could not have named a single thing that he ate. After Luigi left, Gene rambled away without sense or connection, until Ray arrived to take over for an hour at lunchtime.

Ray was as committed to this as anyone. He had interviewed the hitman and driver, and Chris had told Gene in awestruck tones of how it had taken four men, one of them himself, to stop Ray from beating up the pair of them in their cells. What had brought Ray to his senses, in the end, was Chris's reminder that evidence of a beating while in custody might reduce their chances of conviction. Ray had never particularly liked Alex, but she was one of the team, and he would see the suspects sent down if it was the last thing he did. He also knew that if his actions resulted in their going free, Gene would slaughter him. He was happy to take part in CID's informal rota to visit the hospital and talk to Alex, but he was an unimaginative soul and had never really known what to talk about. Having run out of things to say several days ago, he spent that day's stint reading out the racing results in a flat monotone, while Gene swallowed some food and then tried to doze, fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair.

Bloody useless waste of space. How the hell does he think she'd want to wake up if all she's going to hear is Lady Di 6-1, Arthur's Boat 11-2, Speeding Bullet 9-4 favourite, 6 ran?

Got to say something she wants to hear. Which means that if Luigi and the others are right, I could either make a complete twat of myself or, please God, I might, just might hit the jackpot.

It's worth a go. Anything's worth a go, now. Anything.

But when Ray had gone and Gene was at his post again, he found it impossible to start. Part of it, he knew, was due to a lifetime's inability to express his feelings, but part of it was due to his surroundings. If he was going to say what he felt for her at last, it couldn't be while nursing staff were scurrying in and out and visitors were passing by her room. He told himself that he would definitely do it later, when he, when they, had more privacy. If he could stay awake that long. For the moment, he kept to subjects he had covered already, wearily going over the same ground again and again until salvation, in the welcome shape of Shaz, arrived at 5.30.

"I'm going to make a long evening of it, if that's all right with you, Sir. Chris told me this morning how tired you were looking, so I've arranged with him that he'll come at 11.00 to see me home. Give you a chance to get a few hours' decent sleep while I'm here."

"Thanks, Shaz, but you don't 'ave to stay that long."

"I know I don't have to, Sir, but I'd like to, if you'll let me. Pardon me for saying so, but there's no point in your being ill as well. The hospital might send you home then."

It went against the grain, but Gene allowed himself to be persuaded. You haven't said so, but I'd bet Maggie Thatcher's corset that Chris has told you what he told me this morning.

Shaz somehow managed to find some spare bucket chairs and set them out in a row. Gene draped his long frame along them, covered himself over with his coat, and sank into a deep sleep, secure in the knowledge that Shaz would awaken him if he were needed.

Shaz calls Bolly her guardian angel. Reckon she's our guardian angel now.

It seemed like no time at all before Shaz was gently shaking his shoulder.

"Sorry to wake you, sir, but it's 11.30. Chris isn't here, so I phoned the station. They've all been called out on a drug bust. I'll get a cab home."

He hauled himself upright, rubbing his eyes. "Thanks, Shaz. No change?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"No, I know you'd 'ave woken me if there was. Off you go, an' 'ere's a tenner for the cab."

"Thanks very much, sir. I've got you some coffee. You'll need it if you want to stay awake all night."

Now how did she know I want to stay awake tonight? Sometimes I think she's psychic.

"Thanks for everything, Shaz. See you tomorrow, an' tell Ray an' Chris, if they cock up the bust I'll play golf wi' their balls."

"I'll be sure to do that, sir. Good night."

He took his place in the chair by the bed and listened to the sound of her footsteps dying away down the corridor. The hospital was quiet. If ever he was going to have an opportunity to say what he wanted to say without interruption, this was it.

Could be my only chance. Her only chance.

He picked up her delicate hand from where it lay on the coverlet and held it closely between his, as though he would transmit his own abundant life force into her.

Go for it.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began to speak.

TBC

A/N: Chris's description of Alex's visit to Shaz in hospital refers to a scene which was deleted from Series 1, Episode 8 but is among the extras on the DVD boxed set.