Keats was gone. Not out of their lives, granted. But for now, him being outside the confines of CID was enough. Everyone had stopped what they were doing when they saw Alex approach Keats, sensing that their own future was hanging in the balance. All Alex could see were several pairs of eyes locked on her. All she could hear was the growing sound of the rain beating against the windows. All she could feel was a mixture of elation and dread. She had taken a big step by telling Keats where to go, but it was nothing in comparison to the task that lay ahead of her. If she had been more aware of her surroundings, she would have been able to draw courage from the sense of pride emanating from her colleagues. Instead, as if in a trance, she was now focusing on the checkerboard pattern of the carpet.

It's easy, Alex, you just follow the pattern to his office. One foot on one tile, the other on the next. Until you reach the door. And then you place your hand on the handle, turn it, and step inside…

"Alex." His voice was so cold, so matter-of-factly.

"I could do with one of those", pointing to Gene's glass of whisky on the desk, unable to look him in the eye.

"Your friend will be joining us later, will he?"

"Not likely", she whispered to herself.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that." he said, louder than he needed to.

"I said… Never mind…"

"You know, there's always room for three here. Perhaps we could all go to the cinema later, have a bite to eat and tell each other our childhood stories. What do you think?"

"Shut up", her voice still barely audible.

"What?"

"I said: Shut up!"

She was looking at him now, anger and hurt blazing out of her eyes. He was trying to draw her into another boxing match, another round of giving as good as you got. Alex in the red corner, Gene in the blue corner. Ding, ding. Only one of the fighters was virtually already dead on their feet, the towel seconds from being thrown to the ground. She had to sit down, to try and stabilise herself, step aside from the situation a little. Her familiar spot by the filing cabinet was as good a place as any. She took slow, laboured steps towards her target and let herself slide down the cold surface. Firmly back on the ground again, she closed her eyes, protecting herself from the fury in Gene's voice.

Her tormentor took mercy on her and handed her the drink she had asked for. He then retreated to the other side of the office, examining his Gary Cooper poster for the thousandth time. An entire minute must have passed before either of them spoke again.

"What are you doing to me?"

He turned around, not quite understanding what she was saying.

"I mean, I didn't ask for any of this. I had a life, a little girl, a job I loved, and then suddenly, I end up here, in this… this nightmare, and I can't get back, and I can't move on." She could feel the tears building in her eyes.

"You asked for a transfer, remember?"

"I didn't believe any of this was really happening, you know. I spent the best part of a year thinking everything was just in my mind, that I could erase you all with one thought, if I found the right one. And case after case, evening after evening, I found myself forgetting, having to remember not to forget…"

"You're not making any sense, Alex."

"My old life is disappearing, Gene. Sometimes I can't even remember what my own daughter looks like." Tears were rolling down her cheeks now. "I have begun to live for who I am now, not who I used to be. I live to catch Cockney filth and scum with the team, to tear down the streets in the Quattro with you, to spend my evenings at Luigi's, alone with you…"

"It doesn't sound like such a nightmare to me."

"Perhaps it wasn't, at one point. But now... Now, I don't know what to believe anymore…"

"We're back onto that, are we?"

"I thought you had learned to trust me, Gene. I thought Operation Rose had taught you that much."

"Trust. It's a great thing, isn't it, trust?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? That weasel comes into our life, burrows his way into your head, and all of a sudden, I am the bad guy! Three years, Alex. Almost three years we have shared. I even shot you and you forgave me! You believed - no - you KNEW I was trying to protect you. And now, a few conversations with Keats, and you've decided I am a murderer! Do you know how that makes me feel, Alex? You tell me. You tell me why the HELL I should be trusting you!"

He had done it again. Turned the tables on her. And she felt awful for it. Ashamed that she had only ever considered her own point of view, and angry that Gene's true feelings were only coming out now.

"Why didn't you tell me how you feel?"

"You were too busy looking for murderers, Bolls."

She wondered if he knew how happy he had made her by reverting to her nickname. Her newfound strength made it possible for her to stand up and regain some of her composure. A few more seconds of silence elapsed.

"I told Keats to leave me alone. He won't come between us again. I promise. And for what it's worth… I'm sorry."

Gene couldn't remember the last time he had felt so much joy. That woman, who was desperately clinging on to office furniture for support, who did not quite dare look him in the eye yet, would be the death of him.

"You keep hugging that filing cabinet and I am going to start getting jealous."

She felt herself smile. The first smile in a long, long time.

"It does have one advantage over you… I can easily open it and find out what's inside."

"I think you already know, Alex". There it was. That silky feeling again…

"Do I?"

"Would you be standing here if you didn't?"

"When did you become such a good psychologist, Gene?"

"Well, you listen to enough crap and it rubs off on you eventually."

It was amazing how that man could make it from complete bastard to irresistible magnet in a matter of minutes.

"Look, er, I'm not very good with words…"

"What, the king of metaphors not good with words?"

"Them other words…"

"It's okay."

"No. No, it's not." He paused for a few seconds to think about what he was going say. "If I have made you feel all the things you just told me about, then I am glad."

"You're glad you've turned me into a sobbing wreck?"

"I told you I was crap with words…" This was so difficult for him, but she admired him all the more for it. "What I am trying to say is… I am glad you feel so strongly. About me…"

She had just managed to stop crying and he was starting her off again. Thank god the filing cabinet was still in place.

"Mr Hunt", she said, blushing. "I don't think you should put yourself down where words are concerned." She too needed to pause to gather her thoughts. "Look, it's been a long day and…"

Gene lowered his gaze, readying himself for disappointment.

"…and I would rather finish it somewhere more comfortable, wouldn't you?"

He thought he'd heard her right…

"On one condition. The cabinet stays here."

THE END

There you are! Only a short story, but I hope you enjoyed it! As always, reviews are most appreciated ;-).