Epilogue

Alex was weaving a little by the time Gene drove her home. She'd had a little too much of his scotch and not very much to eat. She climbed unsteadily from the Mercedes and fumbled for her key. It slipped into the lock more easily than she'd been expecting, considering her slightly inebriated state, and she turned it quickly.

"You are coming up, aren't you?" she asked.

"Do I look like a man who's going to kiss you on the doorstep and drive off into the sunset?" asked Gene.

Alex smiled and beckoned him inside.

"Well come on then," she said.

Gene followed her up the stairs and to the door of her flat.

"I won't be checking in the toilet pan tonight," he commented, "I think it's safe to assume we're Keats-free."

Alex smiled warmly at Gene. They entered the lounge and both gave a smirk as they spotted the couch they'd christened the night before.

"Do you think you can make a second exception for my girly couch tonight?" Alex asked.

"Did I waste my time drawing those diagrams?" Gene asked, "we're doing it in the Merc, no debate."

"The state of my bloody bum right now, I am not doing it on the Merc!" cried Alex, rubbing her sore posterior.

"Come here," Gene beckoned her, "let me see if you've got a bruise."

"I'm not showing you until you promise we're not going anywhere near that car before the morning," Alex said firmly.

The two of them sat down side by side, Alex a little more gingerly than Gene. She leaned against him and stared at the wall.

"Funny old day," said Gene.

Alex turned to see his face, her mouth slightly open.

"'Funny old day'?" she cried, "I can think of many ways to describe today, all of them more severe than that!"

Gene scratched his head.

"Keats is still in the morgue," he said, "I checked - three times. Didn't want to risk him disappearing, waking up in some… twentieth century hospital, bringing death and destruction to some time we haven't got to yet."

"I get the feeling whoever Keats used to be, he died a long time ago," Alex said quietly.

"Webber will be back in the office tomorrow," said Gene, "He says compassionate leave makes him want to headbutt his television."

"Subtle," said Alex.

"Susannah's going to have her picture in the paper," Gene continued, "for her brave attempt at administering first aid when you got a bit frazzled by the faulty wiring. And Malcolm got a slap from the woman with the fat arse who runs the canteen for nicking her colander."

"So not quite happy endings all round," Alex commented.

Gene gave a non-committal noise. He thought to himself for a moment.

"They're alright, you know Bols," he decided.

"Who?"

"Webber and Kite and whats-his-name, Colander-man," said Gene, "I think they're going to do well."

Alex smiled.

"I agree," she said.

They fell silent for a short while. It began to dawn on Gene how significant the events of the day truly were. Alex's heart was beating again somewhere back in her own time. Some day she might wake up and she would disappear from his life without so much as a goodbye. Maybe she'd go down a tunnel like Sam. Maybe she'd fall to the ground with a bullet wound like Simon. He had no way of knowing where or when it would happen. It made every moment they shared all the more precious.

"So tell me, Bolly," he sighed, "what have I got to look forward to?"

"Apart from sex in your car?" asked Alex.

"In five years time, ten years… what's so good about the future? What am I going to enjoy?"

Alex gave a little, nostalgic smile and looked to the ceiling as she thought.

"Ooh," she began, "I'm not really sure. Define 'enjoy'."

"Anything that doesn't make me want to insert my arm up my own rectum in disgust and boredom," said Gene.

Alex scratched her chin.

"Well, there's the Berlin Wall coming down," she began, "multi-channel satellite TV, then there's Britpop…"

"Some kind of lemonade?" frowned Gene.

"No, no," Alex shook her head, "it's a musical movement. Pulp, Blur…"

"You feeling sick, Bols?" frowned Gene.

Alex sighed.

"They're bands," she explained, "then there's the Millennium. That's a whole bloody anti-climax."

"I'll have you know I have never had that problem!" Gene cried indignantly.

"No, an anti-climax!" cried Alex. She rubbed her forehead. "It's the turn of the century. Someone thinks it's a good idea for us to sit and watch everyone else's new year so we're really bloody bored of it by the time it gets to midnight here. Then there's a wheel that doesn't go round yet, a bridge no one can walk across yet and a Dome that… well, no one cares about." she paused. "Oh, and there's a solar eclipse."

"When's that?"

"Nineteen ninety-nine," said Alex, "it's a bit boring really… it just goes a bit dark… but at least it stops everyone talking about the millennium for a couple of weeks."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of all this," said Gene.

Alex smiled.

"You'll be fine," she said.

"You gonna be here to help me?" asked Gene.

Alex sat up straight and took his hand.

"I don't know," she said honestly, "I can't say for sure how long I will be here, you know that." she squeezed his hand, "but for as long as I am, I'll be by your side, Gene Hunt. I'll be right by your side."

Gene looked into Alex's eyes and could see she meant every word. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head gently.

"We'll be alright, Bolly," he said.

Alex closed her eyes and leaned against him.

"Yeah," she sighed happily, "we will."

Gene held her close and savoured the smell of her hair. He felt her warm breath against him and felt whole, happy and very much alive. Finally he drew back a little and looked at her seriously.

"Now, Bolly Knickers," he began seriously, "I think it's time."

Alex hesitated.

"Time for what?"

Gene stood up.

"I'll get the Liniment, you get your backside out," he said.

The pain in his head was incredible. It ached, it throbbed, it pulsed. It seemed like a mammoth task to open up his heavy eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what would greet them if he did.

He heard a voice in the background. It was a vague, mumbling voice that he couldn't quite identify but it sounded vaguely familiar. Gradually his ears adjusted to the sound and the voice became clearer.

"…I swear on my life, that guinea pig eats more than I do! I had no idea how much…"

A blink.

He blinked once.

There was some music playing in the background somewhere, it was something he had on his iPhone, he was sure. David Bowie, Absolute Beginners.

Blink.

The room was bright and the light stung his eyes but he gave it another go.

Blink.

"…Hey…? HEY! You blinked! You did… you blinked! I saw you!… Come on, open your eyes!"

He tried. Really he tried, but the light made it so hard.

"…Come on… come on, you can do it. Come on, I saw you blink…"

He tried again. He slowly opened those heavy eyelids. They fought hard to close again but he wouldn't let them win.

The room was spinning a little. It was clinical and white, so cold and unfeeling, but as a smile swam into focus his heart missed a beat.

Robin!

He tried to move his lips, to whisper his name, but no sound emerged.

"…Simon? SIMON! You MADE it! Oh man…"

The smile jumped to its feet along with the rest of Robin and ran from the room momentarily.

"Hey! HEY! Nurse! Someone! He's awake… he's AWAKE!"

A moment later, as Simon fought with his eyelids who still wanted to shut again, Robin raced back in accompanied by a nurse and one of his sisters.

"Simon!" she cried, "Oh my God, you really are! You're awake! Oh, thank God!"

"OK, can you just stand back for a minute? I need to check him," the nurse filled his field of vision, "Hello, Simon? Can you hear me? I'm Nurse Tamper. I'm just going to check you over, lovie, OK?"

Simon could do nothing but lay back and let the nurse check him over while he listen to the ones he loved so dearly cry and cheer in happiness. He felt so tired and every movement of his eyes or his lips felt like the biggest effort, but he knew this was going to take time. He was in no hurry.

He was home. Home! His ordeal was over and somehow he had made it back. He remembered flashes of a man in a long, dark coat; a video tape, a kindly woman who tried to protect him from a cruel decade and a mobile phone the size of a small house extension.

He closed his eyes again as the effort of opening his eyes grew too much and drifted into a natural, pure and normal sleep. He would sleep a lot, for many weeks, but every time he opened his eyes again he knew he would be in 2010.

Someone helped him back. Someone who would never know how much he had to thank her for. He remembered the bright eyes and warm smile of the woman who sent him on his way.

Thank you, Alex, he said silently before he drifted away for a dreamless nap.

The young girl peered around the door of the room and frowned. She saw a man and a woman jumping around excitedly, crying, "he's awake! He's awake!" while a nurse checked the vital signs of a man whose eyes were closing.

With a roll of her eyes she left the room and slipped back into the room next door. She sat down beside the bed, pulled a magazine into her lap and sighed.

"Sorry, Mum," she said, "it's some guy in the room next door who's woken up. I think his family are in there but they're getting a bit too excited. I wish they'd think about the other people here. Not everyone's waking up." She leaned closer to her mother and smiled with real excitement. "But you'll be next, I know you will. The doctors say your responses have finally started getting stronger. I know you can do it, mummy. Any day now you'll open your eyes, and I'm going to be here when you do." she paused. "And when you do, I'll try not to shout too loudly… but I can't make any promises." She leaned back and opened up her magazine. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the eighties are coming back this season. I bet you've got some wicked clothes in the back of your wardrobe from when you were my age. Maybe I can borrow them? Just one or two. don't worry about it for now, Mum, we'll talk about this when you wake up…"

As Molly read to her mother, just as she had every evening for the last two years, she finally felt a strong sense that her mother would return to her soon. She'd missed her last birthday and she'd never been able to help her blow out the candles the year before that, but this year - who knows? - she just might make it.

~* The End *~

I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. In all honestly, this is the first time in a decade I've felt the same passion about writing that I used to. I used to be a total writing addict, I'd sit and write compulsively, and when writer's block hit me it was like losing a massive part of my life. I can only thank Ashes for bringing back that passion, and I really hope to continue writing. Your comments and reviews have really inpired me and helped me to know if I was on the right track.

I feel really sad this has come to an end. I became genuinely fond of all the characters that grew from out of the Window and I'm going to miss them. I'm going to write the 'deleted scene' next and then, hopefully, I'll start another fic.

Bye bye, Simon - I hope your iPhone still has some battery after Keats messed about with it!