A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited so far! It's given me a real boost of confidence - and I'm very much enjoying writing the Fenchurch East gang. Without further ado, here's the next instalment...


Chapter 2

She hardly dreamt of Molly anymore. When she did it was in fleeting glimpses; her feet in their Converse trainers as they skipped along, her hair blowing in the breeze before she got sucked up amongst the crowds on Millennium Bridge. Her little girl, lost.

She sought her out, running as fast as she was able, legs burning.

Molls, where are you? Come on. You know I was never good at hide and seek. I'd never have to let you win, you were always too clever for me.

Her laugh rung out, and sent tears springing to her mother's eyes; she couldn't be too far away.

Don't give up on me, Molls. I know it's been a while and I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I promise I'm coming back. I'm coming back for you.

Those feet, moving like a blur, sprinting too fast for her to keep up.

Her arms reached out, hands grabbing at air for the lack of her precious daughter.

Believe me. Please. I haven't forgotten you, Molls. Please, don't forget me.

She was back in that dark room, feeling like a spotlight had been placed upon her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she'd never given it a second thought back then, but it was weird when the shoe was on the other foot.

The session always went the same way. She was making no progress and they both knew it, yet they persisted. The therapist wasn't unkind, but the scrutiny in her eyes made Alex want to turn away, lash out. What right did she have to peer into the depths of her mind, tear it to shreds, try to tell her that none of it was real? All this psycho-bollocks doesn't make sense half the time, anyway.

Are you still hearing voices?

No.

That one was easy enough.

The therapist wore a sliver of a smile, scribbling a note, disbelieving.

She knew what was coming. This time she'd answer; if she lied, maybe she would stop. Dream about Molly again instead. Her little girl who needed her above everything and everyone else.

And are you dreaming about him?

She didn't fight the urge to look down into her lap, her impulses and her body betraying her. It was doing that a lot these days. She saw herself sprawled out, heard herself moan in desperation. Gene was over her, fully-dressed in coat, gloves and all. If she had ever thought that he would be her wildest fantasy...

She pushed her naked hips upwards, whining when she felt the stroke of leather against the bare skin of her waist. The other cupping her cheek. He didn't take her hard and fast, not this time; instead he smiled down at her, before placing the tenderest kiss she had ever known upon her lips.

Alex? Are you dreaming about Gene Hunt?

That had never happened before; her repeating the question, and calling him by his name. Perhaps that was the plan, to shock her out of her guardedness. Or maybe she just appreciated the honesty.

Endlessly.

On occasion others did feature in her dreams. Chris, Shaz and Ray, having a tea-party for some inexplicable reason. Maybe she was Alice, always running late. We're all mad here.

There was someone else too, a Mancunian who was more softly-spoken, and yet she never asked the question that perhaps she should.

You have to get out of your head, Alex. Stop questioning everything so much.

Aren't I the psychologist out of the two of us?

I'll give you that. But then we're not that different, are we? You could learn a thing or two from me. It doesn't always pay to go by the book.

This is weird. You seem so much more real now than in our sessions.

Who says I'm not?

Because this is a dream. You're not really here, I'm making you up. You look like you've climbed out of The Professionals.

That came a bit afterwards, actually. And I don't think I could have carried off the '80s look as well as you.

Thanks, I try. Even if nothing is flattering.

This was actually insane. She was having a full-blown conversation with Sam Tyler in her sleep, as if he was sitting in the chair opposite her, both of them in her office, 2006 all over again.

Because you're dead. You can't be real.

He smiled, with the knowledge of something more.

Something that she couldn't get to.

Isn't it real if you can feel it? Really feel it, right in your gut. When you were shot – the second time, I mean – didn't you feel the pain? Didn't it hurt more?

She screwed her eyes tighter.

Don't.

I'm sorry, Alex. You had more reason to go back than I did. It was tough for me to come to terms with as well. But then I felt so free. I promise you will too.

I didn't want this. I'm not like you. I didn't want this, but I'm stuck with it.

Only if you let yourself think that way. I know it's hard to break habits, but it's different here.

What are you laughing at?

Oh, nothing. I just never thought it would be possible, that there would be anyone who could take him on. You're his match. I'd say 'made in heaven', but I don't think you want to believe me just yet.

I don't think I have a choice. Not anymore. God, they'd write several books about me if they knew how mad I was.

You always have a choice. You have mine. I couldn't do it, Alex; it was too much, I was too scared. I always was, really. Scared and awed, all at once.

What do you mean?

I can't tell you, but you'll know. It's what you were meant for. I suppose that's why I could never bloody get on with it; he was waiting for you.

She sighed in frustration, unable to comprehend his words or her mind, perhaps for the rest of time.

Don't think about me, or what might have happened. Just focus on what's real, Alex. I'll see you soon. The both of you. Tell the Guv there's a pint waiting for him.

Seven o'clock had come too soon; the radio alarm clock wrenched her from the strange rabbit-hole that were her dreams.

#Hold your head up, keep your head up
Movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on#

She groaned at the song that blasted around the room as she lifted her head from the pillow.

So much easier said than done.


"Once again, yer not listenin' to me, Bolly," his voice boomed around his office, affording no privacy whatsoever, "when I say I'm takin' you off the case, I mean I'm takin' you off the case." He ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her momentarily. "As far as I'm aware I'm speakin' English and not gobbledegook, yet you have such a hard time comprehendin' time and bloody time again."

"Why should I, when you won't bloody listen to me!" At the same time as she raised her voice louder, she stamped her heel down hard.

His eyes blazed at her, and yet he didn't move to interrupt.

"Guv, give me one good reason why I shouldn't be on this."

She was on the receiving end of another of his stares, becoming all the more intense the nearer he moved towards her. He's got nothing, except his prehistoric attitude.

"Emotionally compromised," he said after a few moments of blissful silence. "In other words, yer too close to this for comfort."

She stuttered out a laugh in an attempt to hide her vulnerabilities, which despite her wanting to deny had been exposed in the full light of day thanks to this case.

Thus far there had been three kidnappings, the first two weeks ago and the second – the one which they had received the call about – five days later. The third followed three days after that. There must be some kind of pattern in the timing, she just couldn't figure it out yet. There was also a detectable theme in the gender of the children who were going missing. A boy first, then a girl, then another boy. No other similarities aside from that, and what was worse no suspects either. Whoever was responsible was keeping themselves well hidden, which was no mean feat in the middle of London.

There was no mistaking that this was something big, and though nothing terrible had happened so far it seemed to be only a matter of time. This was no inside job, not like what poor little Dorothy Blonde had found herself caught up in. She tried to keep Gene's theory out of her head, that every crime committed could be traced back to one determining factor out of a possible three that drove its perpetrator, and pleaded that he was severely wrong in this instance. She wasn't sleeping; all she could think about were these poor children who had been ripped without any rhyme, reason or wrongdoing from their parents' arms. All she could hear were their voices calling to her, begging her to help bring them home.

She pinched the bridge of her nose sharply, bringing herself back to the moment.

"I think that's exactly why I can make the breakthrough, Guv," she used his preferred name as a bargaining tool, "if you'll let me."

She was close to reaching her hand out, touching the sleeve of his jacket, but she refrained. Deep down within her she knew that tactic wouldn't work. If he wasn't willing to let her in when she had gotten as close to him as she possibly could, there was not a chance in hell of it now – not when there was still such a gulf between them.

He shook his head while she remained looking doe-eyed towards him. "I've 'eard some cracked thinking in my time, Bols, but this without doubt takes the biscuit."

"Well, nobody else is coming up with anything, are they?" She threw both arms out from her sides. "In desperate times I don't think that being 'cracked' is such a bad thing."

She hadn't pulled out the air quotes in such a long time, and she was aware that they rankled him.

"God 'elp me," Gene grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face, "one day I might actually get a DI who does what I say!"

"And I suppose you'll shoot them if they don't?"

There was a flash of hurt – she wanted to say – in his eyes, and a smirk on the face of another who had saw fit to creep inside the very slightly open door.

"I didn't mean that," Alex said softly, drawing closer when she felt brave enough to do so. "Heat of the moment."

He grunted, which she took to be an acceptance of her awkwardly phrased apology.

She let out a sigh before she began again. "I know why you think I can't handle this, and I'm grateful for that."

Her voice had lowered, so that only Gene was able to hear her appraisal. Really she wanted to say more, but it wasn't the time or the place and she didn't have anywhere near the amount of alcohol that was needed in her system. She never talked about Molly anymore, not that she had said all that much to begin with, but it was how she had needed to survive.

"But I can tell you," she continued, her tone firmer again, "I am capable."

She wasn't able to focus on Gene's steadfast stare for very long, not when Jim Keats saw fit to step outside the shadowy corner of the office he had occupied.

"That's right, Alex. Stand strong. Don't let him control you."

She turned slowly to meet his gaze, finding it deeply uncomfortable that she had already known that he was watching her and had been all the while.

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Sir, but I can fight my own battles."

"Listen to the lady, Jimbo," Gene followed, "please do piss off. And I do mean that disrespectfully."

To her ears it sounded as if he hissed before he left the room, leaving them rightfully alone.

"I don't like this, Bols," he muttered, "especially not when 'e's sniffin' about."

"Forget about Keats," she said. This is about you and me, she wanted to say. She looked him square in the eyes, not letting herself be swerved. "I can do this. I have to do this. Please, Guv."

She had poured her heart into her plea, and short of getting down on her knees and polishing his boots there was little else she could do. She just had to hope that he could still see that far into her. Her eyes were pinned to him as he raised his chin, the pout on his face seconds away from faltering.

"Alright Bolly, no need to beg," he conceded. "But if I so much as sense that you may be about to throw a wobbler then you'll be stuck dealin' with parking fines for the rest of the year."

"I won't let you down, Guv. We'll get them quicker than you can say 'fire up the Quattro'."

"Let's not be too hasty, Bols."

She departed leaving him with a glass in his hand, and wore a sombre smile on her face. If she couldn't get back to her daughter – and the prospect seemed more and more helpless with each passing day – then she would help to heal the hearts of others who had broken, so there would be a few less like her own.

This one's for you, Molls.

Before she could round the corner out of CID, the figure of Jim Keats appeared again, blocking her pathway. He smelt of some combination of aromas she couldn't put her finger on, but they cloyed at the back of her throat and made her want to gag.

"You did very nicely back there, Alex. Standing up to Hunt like that. You know that the others are cowards, wouldn't go against their Guv for anything." He did that same wry smile, the one he only ever aimed at her. "But you're different. You can make a difference."

"I wasn't standing up to him," she corrected, "I was making my point. Now if you don't mind, Sir, I've got leads to follow up."

She tried pushing past him but he gave no right of way. It made her cringe to come into the slightest bit of physical contact with him.

"I think it's insulting the way he talks to you. Calling you those silly nicknames, all based around your willingness to be sexually available." His eyes raked all the way down to her red boots, and she felt more demeaned in that moment than she had in two years of standing at Gene's side. "His are the attitudes we have to get rid of if we want the police force to make any progress. I imagine you'd agree, Alex, being a feminist."

She shrugged, feeling too powered up over the case to have another conversation full of riddles. "What someone says and what they do are two different things. Or so I've come to realise."

"Very philosophical. I'm not sure I share your opinion, but each to their own."

He made one step to the side, leaving her just enough room to squeeze past him.

"I think you need to change your perspective, Sir," she said, stopping to look at him before she went on her way. "It takes a while to understand him, but once you do then you might start to understand some things about yourself too."

There was a moment of deathly silence before he began to laugh manically. A cold shiver sliced its way through her, and yet she felt as though she was burning at the same time.

"You think he understands you? Oh Alex, I thought you were better than that. I thought you were clever. I suppose a bullet counts for nothing these days." He paused, glancing away to the side. "And it wasn't the first time it's happened, either." He thrust out his bottom lip exaggeratedly and pretended to sniffle. "Oh dear, I've said too much."

She wouldn't listen, and there was not a chance she would be put off her stride; not when Molly was counting on her.

"I know you want to take him down, Sir, but I'm not going to be the one to do it. You'll have to find someone else." And whoever they were, they'd have to get through her first. "The Guv values loyalty, and I finally understand the importance of that." She couldn't keep the shake out of her voice as she spoke. "I'm not leaving him."

This was it; she had made her choice. She was only sorry that it hadn't happened sooner, and that Keats was the one to hear her say it out loud.

He looked rueful, wearing an iron mask that now she knew only too well.

"Your loss, Alex. I wanted to spare you, but that's how it goes." He tilted his head to the side, wearing a trace of a sinister smile. "Believe me, I will take Gene Hunt down. And now you'll have to burn in the ashes with him."

"Better the devil you know," she said plainly. "And I'm afraid I don't know you at all."

For some reason, he broke into a grin.

"You know where I am if you change your mind," he said, watching her as she walked away. "You could still have everything you've ever wanted back again."

Her heart contracted in her chest at the pause in her pulse.

He couldn't mean.

Molly.

It was impossible, and she had to come to terms with that.

"Don't worry, Sir," she shouted with renewed certainty, not needing to turn back towards the unnerving glare, "there'll be no chance of that."


She was there, finally; her little girl, standing in front of her, as clear as day. They were standing in a field, with what looked to be a farmhouse in the near distance. It was somewhere she didn't know, and yet she felt connected to the place. Rooted.

Probably because Molly was there, smiling wide. She was back with her little girl, even if she wasn't home. Home was wherever Molly was.

The scuffed pair of Converse stepped forward in the parched grass.

"You have to go now, Mum."

No. No, Molls, I've only just found you. I'm not going anywhere.

"It's okay, Mum. I'm okay. Evan's looking after me. Dad's been spending more time with me, too. He said he'll take me to Florida with Judy."

Tears had sprung to her eyes. She had cried herself to sleep before, many times, but had never cried in her sleep.

Make sure he doesn't break the promise. Molls, oh sweetheart, this can't be it. I'm not ready.

"You'll be okay, Mum. You can do anything."

She smiled, despite her anguish.

You're such a brave girl, Molls. I fought so hard for you. You know that, don't you?

She nodded. Her hair was shorter now, not by much but she noticed all the same.

"I'll miss you, Mum. And I'll think about you every day."

I'll miss you too, my darling. More than you'll ever know.

She wished so much that she could hug her, but her body was paralysed.

"I have to give you this."

In her small hand, she passed over a single red balloon.

Oh, Molls, no.

"And you have to find something out. Something important." She smiled again, and then started to sing. "I'm happy, hope you're happy too."

No, Molls, not that. Please, no...

The car exploding before her eyes, the smoke filling her lungs. Gene coming to the rescue of her younger self, though it had been impossible.

"Any problems, you just call the Gene-Genie."

The red balloon floated to the sky as she let it slip from her fingers; the last thing that she had been given from her daughter, so carelessly gone.

I'm sorry, Molls. I'm so sorry.

She woke in the morning with tears stinging her eyes and the smell of smoke somehow clinging to her, several showers unable to take it away.


Alex sat slumped against the bar, the glass glued to her hand, sitting separated once more. It was incomprehensible, how everyone else could be laughing and joking when there were innocent and vulnerable children in such desperate need, needing Fenchurch East's finest to be their saviours against evil. Every lead had turned out to be a dead-end and they were being led a tortured dance. Even Shaz was joining in with the fun. She stopped trying to make sense of it and decided to get hammered instead; after a bottle and a half of red she was already halfway there. It wasn't the wisest decision with a case of this magnitude hanging over her head, but she couldn't come up with any other way of blotting out the pain.

The latest victim had been taken four days ago. A girl, as they had predicted. From a well-to-do background, she was home from boarding school for the holidays. She was the same age as Molly. Or at least, the same age that she remembered Molly as. She might have been older now. She looked older in the dream that was recurring, forcing her to relive all the hurt and guilt and the worst agony she had known.

Saying goodbye night after night.

Letting her down day after day, the longer these children were kept away from their mums and dads, facing God knows what.

She clinked the bottle loudly against her glass, shaking it when no more wine appeared and then holding it to her eye and squinting.

"All gone!" she exclaimed, slamming the empty bottle down against the bar. Nowhere near enough yet.

Eyelids flickering beyond her control, she smiled seductively at the man behind the bar.

"Luigi, there's no wine left. Can I have a double whisky, please?" There was a slur in her voice as she spoke and she straightened herself on the stool in an attempt to shoo it away. "Actually, make that two." She held up two fingers in front of his face, and giggled naughtily when she realised which way they were facing. "Oh, I'm sorry Luigi, that's very rude of me. I don't possibly know where I get it from."

"Signorina Drake, I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled worriedly, "you have had too much to drink already this evening."

Alex flailed one hand in front of her, followed quickly by the other. "I'm a big girl, Luigi. I can handle it."

Through her protests she distinguished footsteps at her back, coming to a halt by her side. See, she was still a good detective, wrecked or not. It actually gave her an added edge. After this she might go back to CID and spend the night going through files, cracking on while everyone else went for a kebab and then slept it off.

"Blimey, I've seen corpses dragged out the Thames that look in a better state than you do right now, Bolly."

"Gene!" she shrieked, leaning forth and nearly toppling from her seat, his outstretched arms holding her steady in place. "Come and have a drink with me. I've got one in for you."

She didn't notice the exchanged glance between the two men on either side of the bar.

"Sit down by me," Alex patted the empty stool next to her enthusiastically and smiled when he perched himself. "Let's have a toast." She raised an imaginary glass into the air. "To how shit everything is. Because that's what it is. That's what you said. It's all shit." She wobbled on her stool as she leaned closer towards him. "Isn't it, Gene?"

"Yeah, Bols," he affirmed after a few moments. "It's all shit."

A sharp clink of glass upon glass rang in her ears, the slam of one tumbler down on the bar and then less than a minute later it was followed by the other. She was finding it hard to keep track of the seconds, never mind the minutes, but she was pretty certain that not a drop of whisky had passed her lips.

"Right, drinks finished," Gene announced, slipping an arm around her waist. "Time to take you 'ome, Bollykecks."

"No! I want to stay!" Even in her less-than-comprehending state, it had dawned on her what he had done, and she fought against his grasp as he pulled her from the stool and onto her feet, turning himself into a crutch for her. "You always want to spoil my fun. You're such a bastard, Hunt!"

He huffed, gripping his arm tighter about her, virtually having to drag her along the floor seeing that her legs could barely keep her upright.

"I'll take that, Bols. Been called far worse over the years."

Not without effort, he had succeeded in getting her out of the restaurant before she started to ramble again, her fists aiming blows at his chest of which less than a quarter successfully met their target.

"The case...I need to get somewhere with it...I should go..."

She stumbled a step backwards, just missing hitting her back against the wall, and grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket.

"Nobody cares, Gene," she stuttered, the hope drained out of her voice. "Nothing's happening."

His hands clamped upon her shoulders, righting her where she stood, anchoring her.

"We're doing the best we can, Bolly," he stated firm, making her feel slightly admonished. She was aware of his voice, clear in her ear, and his touch still on her. "But you getting completely and utterly pissed out of that brainbox 'ead of yours is going to do sweet fuck all to 'elp matters! Do you 'ear me?"

She nodded slowly, fumbling a hand against his torso and pressing her other to her forehead, her temples already starting to thud heavily.

"Goin' to take all ruddy night to get you up those stairs yourself. Come on then, Madam Fruitcake."

Without any chance to protest she found herself hoisted from the ground, Gene's arms gripping beneath her thighs.

"Jesus, you've been packin' it away since yer got out the 'ospital," he wheezed, climbing one stair at a time. "Makin' up for lost time, Bols? Or are you a hundred per cent proof now?"

"Rude git," she mumbled against his neck, her limbs swiftly losing their dexterity.

He barricaded through the door to her flat, Alex relaxing now she was vaguely aware that she was home.

"Mmm, how many times have you swept me off my feet?" she asked giddily, her arm gripping tighter against Gene's shoulders.

"Too many times to count."

He gave the answer so low that she almost didn't catch it.

"Ooof!" she heard him heave as he deposited her on the bed. "My back's not goin' to thank me for that in the mornin'. You owe me, Bolly."

She muttered nonsense and mainly small, half-contented sounds, her eyes closed and oblivious to Gene standing awkwardly at the side of the bed, hands held in the air above her.

" 'ope yer alright with sleepin' in yer clothes," he said gruffly, adjusting the sheets around her. "I might be a lot of things but I'm not Florence bleedin' Nightingale."

Those words pulled themselves from the depths of her mind, reverberating loud against her ribcage. She'd heard them somewhere before; heard them come from his mouth.

I'm just 'ere to check that yer alright. Don't expect me to stay until you decide it's time to come round. I'm not Florence bleedin' Nightingale. Yer doing wonders for my reputation, Bollykecks.

He was there. At her bedside, she remembered now. More than once.

I've got to leave, Bolly. Dunno where yet, but out of 'ere at any road. Takin' a bloody liberty being 'ere with you right now. But I needed to make sure that you were alright. That you were alive. The others will look after yer. They'll 'ave no choice but to pull their socks up. I can't be sure, but I'm willin' to bet there's a bullet out there with my name bein' etched on to it as I speak. Just stop takin' the piss and wake up, sooner rather than later.

He kept his distance for most of the time; she couldn't have blamed him. She remembered her hand being lifted from the bed, his gloved fingers brushing her palm briefly.

I didn't mean it, Bols. I'd 'ope you know that, but after everything I said to yer I'm not so sure. But I didn't, I swear it. You've always needed lookin' after and I tried me best, but then you go all wibbly-wobbly on me, yer dozy mare.

A small squeeze of a couple of her fingers, and then he let her go.

Wake up, Alex. If yer won't do it for me, then do it for them. They're gonna need you. Come on, you weren't that shot.

Alex.

"Gene," she mumbled, being pulled deeper into sleep, her arms reaching beyond the covers.

"Bolly," he replied, watching her squirm, trying to fight the inevitable. "What is it, do yer want something? A glass of water? Not givin' you any more ruddy wine."

She turned onto her side, scrambling and hugging the pillow closer to her head. "I need to...need to look after her. Check she's alright."

He leaned closer over the bed, wondering if he should do something to stop her from moving about so frantically. She was going to hurt herself if she wasn't careful.

"Molly," she breathed, the small catch in her throat making it sound as if she were crying.

Taking the blood-red sheets into both of his hands, he tucked them around her gently.

"I know, I know," he whispered, unable to discern whether she could hear him. "Way of the world, Alex. She'll be fine."

Alex sighed, bobbing her head a few times in agreement against the pillow. After a minute or two, she was still.


They were running now, weapons firmly in hand, having discarded the Quattro halfway down the field. The suspect was in their sights, keeping the captive children at his side, and there was no doubt that he wouldn't be able to escape now.

After weeks of searching, they had him.

The weather-vane swayed to and fro, pointing in different directions.

"You know the plan, Bolly," Gene told her, holding her back for a few seconds. "You distract the bastard and get the kids. I'll take care of the rest."

She nodded, rising to her full height again, raring to go. "Let's do this, Guv."

She watched as Gene rounded, getting in place behind the oblivious masked suspect. Her pace slowed as she approached the same man, standing fearlessly in the direct path of his gun as he aimed it towards her.

"Let them go now, and the repercussions will be less." Her voice wavered slightly as he turned his weapon to the side, aiming at the youngest child who was shaking with fear. "Nothing will be solved by taking their lives. Whatever you've done, it's not their fault. Whatever you want, they shouldn't have to pay for it."

The suspect stilled, and slowly withdrew, bringing his shooting arm back to his side. With a faint wave of his other hand, the children ran out towards Alex, a couple bawling loudly, the others with silent tears running down their cheeks. She gathered them one by one into her arms, pressing a kiss to the head of a girl with long dusty-blonde hair.

"It's alright, you're safe," she reassured them, checking them over with her eyes for any visible signs of harm. "Go, go. We'll look after you, I promise."

They ran past her, back towards the Quattro to safety. The relief braced itself to fill her chest, but it wasn't over yet.

"Alright, you low-life piece of shite not fit to be on the sole of my size nines," Gene's voice bellowed out. "Now it's time to pay. What the...?"

It was too late for her to scream a warning, the suspect's mask was off and his smile was sickening, singeing her eyes.

Gene let out a groan as Keats kicked him to the ground behind his knees, holding him up by the scruff of his neck.

"It was all a ruse, Alex. Quite a clever one, don't you think? I knew I had to get to you where it would hurt the most."

"No, please no," she shouted, holding her hands above her head, eyes-wide as she looked at Gene; already he seemed defeated, so quickly. "You want me, then take me instead."

"Bolly!" Gene exclaimed, before he was thwarted by another blow.

Keats was maniacal, grinning with sadistic glee. "I gave you long enough, Alex. Two whole years. There were plenty of opportunities, but you chose not to take them." Holding Gene with one hand he brought his other up, pointing the gun squarely at Gene's temple. "What is it they always say; if you want a job doing, then you have to do it yourself."

She was frantic, unable to breathe, hot tears running down her face. "Please, no, please don't."

"Oh, I don't think begging is going to cut it now," Keats smirked viciously, placing his finger on the trigger. "Just think of it as an eye for an eye. He nearly ended you, so now I'm going to repay the favour on your behalf."

Without thinking, she started to step closer. Gene's face was resigned, his eyes fluttering closed against the cool metal, and the sight caused her heart to shatter within her chest.

"Don't. Please don't," she managed to breathe out, her voice trembling. "Gene – no,"

The shot delayed itself against her ears, and then it was all she could hear, everything she could feel. She didn't realise she had fallen until her face near collided with the parched ground.

"No, no, no," she cried, the sound she made from the depths of her soul almost inhuman. It was too late, she knew, the silence echoing in her soul. But she couldn't stop the primal scream from emerging.

"GENE!"


"GENE!"

Her throat was raw from screaming, her eyes stinging; she sat bolt upright, awake in an instant, though she was still confused as to where she was.

"What the bloody 'ell," he exclaimed, stretched out in the chair that was backed against the wall. Sooner than he had expected to he shook off the remnants of sleep and pulled himself to his feet, roused by her wild-eyed expression. "No need for an alarm clock when yer screechin' like a banshee."

Alex felt the blood rushing sharply around her body, her heart pounding hard against her chest. It looked like Gene was standing in front of her, but her mind was so gone that she had to reach out her hands, clutching at his overcoat to be certain he wasn't a figment she had conjured up in hopelessness, in utter grief.

"You're alive," she whispered, releasing her grasp on his arm after a few moments, being sure she was in her flat, in her own bed and not lying in the centre of a shoot-out, the scent of dirt and blood hanging heavy in the air along with her overwhelming sense of loss.

He frowned at her. "Just about. Yer nearly gave me an 'eart attack with all that palaver."

She looked away from his crystal gaze, burning too bright for her at this moment in time. "Sorry," she mumbled, shame-faced.

"Never mind that," he uttered after a moment, his palm pressing against her cheek. "Jesus, yer sweating buckets. A good fry-up's what you need, get yerself sorted and I'll take you for one."

She near-balked at the thought. "God, no. There's some Alka Seltzer in the cupboard, a couple of them should do the trick."

He puffed his chest, exhaling through his lips. "That's for girls."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Guv, but I am one." She smiled weakly. "I'll be alright."

"Oh, no doubt about that, Bols. An' I never bloody stop noticin'."

Silence fell about them, the atmosphere increasingly awkward and depressingly familiar. Gene stood with his hands in his pockets, appraising her sorry state with an unreadable expression on his face. Alex pulled the covers further up to her chin, though she was now aware that she was still in yesterday's clothes.

"Have you..." she began haltingly, "did you spend all night here?"

He appeared suddenly sheepish. "Slept in the chair. Neck's soddin' killin' me." He rubbed at the back of it for effect. "Couldn't have left you in that state, Bolly. Even by your standards, you were absolutely rat-arsed."

Snatches of her behaviour the previous evening were coming back to her, and she felt downright embarrassed.

"I understand why this is gettin' to yer," he uttered. "If I 'ad a daughter I'd want to string the bastards up by their bollocks an' all."

Her throat rasped again as she swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop sayin' yer sorry, Bols," he said bluntly, and then his eyes softened. It was a rare sight to behold, but it only meant that she was affected all the more when he turned that look towards her. "Sometimes I think you've got no regard for yerself. I'm worried about you, and the Gene-Genie doesn't do worryin'."

It would have been easy to hang her head, escaping his gaze while he kept it upon her. But she owed it to him to stay strong, especially when he had been so candid with her, such a rarity these days. Or so she had believed. It was becoming clearer to her that she was the one who had been shielding herself, thinking she was protecting herself in the process. When what she needed – what she had always needed – was someone else taking over that role. Someone very particular, who had been there for her as long as she could remember. He had been in memories that she had no notion of. And he hadn't left her, even in the times she had been determined to push him away, dismissing him as a construct of her imagination.

"I suppose this means that I'm off the case," she chanced after a few moments, still feeling thoroughly mortified and expecting nothing less than a firm dressing-down – and not the kind that had been a mainstay of her dreams for some time.

Gene's pout was reliably in place, his shoulders shrugging. "Not a chance, I'm afraid. That lot don't know their arses from their elbows most of the time."

"But you love them all the same."

"Wouldn't go that far." Maybe it was her still hazy eyes deceiving her, but she thought she could detect a hint of a smile rising on his face. "You're my only 'ope, Bolly. 'angover from hell or not."

She smiled in return, even if it hurt her head to do so with too much feeling.

"Thank you, Gene," she uttered slowly, "not just for last night, but for everything." She inhaled deeply as she looked back to him again. "For giving me a chance, when I haven't exactly proved myself."

His cheeks flushed a very light shade of pink, and he coughed, looking down at the floor whilst nodding his head.

Inside of her chest, her heart was going wild. If it had only been her stomach doing somersaults, she would have blamed it on the alcohol alone.

"Right then," he clapped his hands loudly together, causing her temples to throb even further, "you get those Alka-wotsits down yer neck, and I'll see you bright-eyed down the station in 'alf an 'our."

Before she could utter a 'right, Guv' he was out of the door like a proverbial whirlwind, and the last few hours seemed like they had lasted for mere minutes. Alex flopped onto her back for a couple of minutes' grace, shutting her eyes and making out flickers of starlight starting to come through behind the blackness.

After being lost for so long she had found her place again, and it was by Gene's side.


A/N: So we've skipped past 3.4, 3.5 and 3.6. But as 3.7 is rather an important episode we'll be getting back on track, to an extent at least, in the next chapter...(and I admit, I have a thing for Gene looking after Alex when she's worse for wear. What a knight in shining armour, or a dark overcoat at least)