It felt like she was surfacing from deep underwater. Higher and higher she rose, until finally her head emerged into the daylight and she took a deep breath of the fresh, clean oxygen for the first time in what felt like months.

The sounds she had been hearing in her head were no longer muffled and indistinct, as if there were cotton wool stuffed in her ears. Now she could hear clearly, a succession of beeps and bings, overlaid by quiet voices discussing her progress and expressing their concerns.

She forced her eyes to open, slowly blinking against the unfamiliar bright lights. She could make out a couple of individuals in white coats examining a chart. There was a lot of machinery in her room and not much natural light. Definitely a hospital then. But why? And when?

It took an extraordinary effort, but she managed to curl the fingers of her right hand, scratching her nails against the starched sheet. She snagged the attention of the medical staff in the room and they walked over to her, smiles written across their previously stern faces.

"Back in the land of the living, then, Alex?" asked one encouragingly. "That's fantastic to see." He paused a moment, then put on his serious, give-them-the-facts expression. "You'll probably feel quite tired right now, quite weak, and that's entirely normal. You were shot, the bullet entered your temple and lodged in your brain. We were able to remove the bullet and were surprised, and pleased, by the extent to which we were able to repair the damage it caused. Of course," he smiled, "it's only now you've recovered consciousness that we can assess you fully."

The other doctor put her hand on Alex's. "Don't worry about that right now. We'll talk again later about your condition. In the meantime, get some rest, it will help your recovery. The next time you wake, you'll probably find you have a very happy visitor."

Questions crowded through Alex's mind. What had happened? What year was she in? Had she gone back to 2008 or was she still stuck in 1981? Where was Molly? Where was Gene? How long had she been in a coma? She opened her mouth, tried to ask some of her questions, but found she didn't have the strength to speak. She relaxed onto her pillows, mouth and eyes closing gently, and drifted back off to sleep.

xxxxx

The next time she awoke, she felt the reassuring pressure of a hand enclosing hers as it lay on the mattress. She smiled softly and opened her eyes. She had been right. The sight of Molly at her bedside, clutching her hand as if she'd never let go, was balm to soothe her aching heart. Molly had never looked more wonderful, more ordinary. As if sensing that her mother had woken, Molly raised her eyes to Alex's and the two shared a smile of exquisite happiness and relief.

"Mum. You're awake."

Alex swallowed and tried again to speak. "I am." Her voice was rough but Molly didn't mind.

"It's great to be able to talk to you," babbled Molly enthusiastically. "I mean, while you can hear me. I've been talking to you a lot, but you've been asleep."

Drawing on all her strength, Alex tried hard to continue the conversation. "Lovely to hear you, Molls. Missed you."

"I missed you too, mum. But Evan's been here to look after me. He says he'll be here soon to see you soon, when you and I have had a chance to catch up."

Alex smiled. "Sorry I missed your birthday."

"Oh, don't worry mum. I saved you some cake. The doctors said I can bring it in tomorrow although you can't have too much to eat just yet."

A frown worked its way between Alex's eyebrows. Cake? Wouldn't the cake be stale by now? Mouldy, even? Alex knew she must be back in 2008, otherwise she wouldn't have Molly, but just how long had she been in her coma? She'd lived for months in 1981 – hadn't it been the same in the real world?

"Molly?"

"Yes, mum?"

"How long have I been here? How long was I asleep?"

"Three days. The doctors were worried when you didn't wake up straight after your operation, but they say now that three days is okay and that you should still be able to make a full recovery."

Alex gave a slight nod and closed her eyes. She was still very sleepy, needed to rest. Needed to process this information. Three days. Her months in 1981 had all been condensed into a three-day coma. She had been able to create her whole 1981 world, all the people, the incidents, in moments. Nothing about 1981 had been real.

Naturally, she was thrilled to be reunited with her daughter, pleased to be back in her real life, with her job, her family, her home. But she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret about leaving behind the world of 1981, even if it had turned out to be illusory. She would miss the colour and the sounds of 1981 London. And she would miss Gene. She felt her breath catch as she realised she'd only see him again in her imagination and memory. It didn't seem like much consolation to realise that he'd only ever existed there anyway.

Her hand in Molly's relaxed as sleep claimed Alex once again. Molly sat for a moment watching over her mother, then scrambled away to find Evan and update him.

xxxxx

Three weeks later, Alex was relieved to finally be discharged from hospital. The doctors and nurses had been great and were encouraging about her prospects of making a full recovery, although she wouldn't be allowed back to work for some months yet. And she'd had plenty of visits from Molly and Evan to keep her occupied, as well as several visits from colleagues and friends who had been concerned about her injury and keen to help her recover. She felt secure, happy to be wanted by her family and friends and keen to be back in her own home. But still there was a cloud on her horizon as she continued to miss the world of 1981. One element in particular of her coma-induced fantasy clung to her and resisted all her efforts at brushing away; she still thought frequently of Gene and how wonderful she'd felt with him. She missed him terribly, almost the same as she'd felt about Molly when she'd thought she'd been in 1981.

She hadn't told anyone about her imaginary 1981 world, for fear of being laughed at or worse, being thought somehow unhinged. She'd only just persuaded people that she was ready to go home; she didn't need to give anyone any excuses to keep her in hospital. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop giving Gene an unhealthy amount of space in her head and remained surprised by how real the memories of him felt.

She relaxed on her sofa, a cup of tea near her hand, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of being alone in her own home. Molly had reluctantly gone back to school and Evan would be round later to make sure she was OK. For the next few hours, though, her time was her own.

Alex closed her eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to stop thinking about Gene. Conceding defeat, she abandoned herself to the memories of him and of them together. If she concentrated, she could still smell his scent, still hear his deep growl, feel the sensation of his lips on her skin, his hands in her hair, their bodies pressed together. She sighed. It did seem unfair that the most successful relationship she'd had in her life, the most successful one she'd probably have ever, had turned out to be fictional. It still felt so crisp, so tangible, she sometimes had trouble persuading herself that it hadn't been real.

Bits and pieces of the events leading up to her shooting had been coming back to her. At first she'd been unable to remember anything, either about the real shooting in 2008 or the imaginary one in 1981. Her colleagues had filled her in on how Arthur Layton had shot her on the barge in the real world. After that, her memory had begun to recover fragments of the incident with Gene. She remembered deciding to sacrifice herself in the hope of returning home to Molly. She remembered Gene's anguished cry as the bullet began flying towards her. And she remembered Gene throwing himself in front of her, in a desperate attempt to prevent her from being harmed. He'd developed a habit of rescuing her; she'd never really appreciated it at the time.

Alex swallowed. It still felt so real. The memories weren't receding, as she had expected them to; instead they became sharper and clearer by the day. Try as she might, she couldn't rid herself of the nagging doubt that something was wrong. She should be happy and contented – she was back at home, surrounded by people she loved and who loved her in return – so why was she feeling so unsettled?

Slowly, a plan began to formulate in her mind. It was crazy, but so what? Everything about her injury and her sojourn in 1981 was crazy. She finished off her tea, picked up the phone and called a taxi.

xxxxx

Standing on the front steps of the hospital, Alex reflected that she hadn't expected to be returning to this particular venue quite so quickly. But it was the only way she could think of to stop the ceaseless questioning in her mind. She would find out, now, one way or another. Setting her shoulders back, she straightened her spine and walked determinedly towards the central information desk.

"Can I help you?" asked the information assistant.

"Yes. Please. I hope so." Alex swallowed. This was it. "I was wondering whether you could tell me whether you have admitted a particular patient."

"Name?"

"Hunt. Gene Hunt."

"Hold on, please." The assistant tapped long fingernails across a keyboard. Alex couldn't see the screen. The wait seemed interminable.

The assistant looked up. "Room G14, Nightingale ward."

Alex's knees felt weak beneath her. "Pardon?"

"He's in room G14, on Nightingale ward. Turn left, take the lift to the third floor, then go right. It'll be straight ahead of you."

"Right." Alex turned in the direction the assistant had indicated and walked slowly towards the lift. Surely not. This couldn't be happening. Perhaps there was a mistake. Probably there was another Gene Hunt. Yes, that would be it. But it was best to be sure. She reached the lift and pressed the call button, her hand reaching up to her forehead as she tried to rub away the confusion that was surrounding her.

The lift arrived and she entered, pressing the button for the third floor. Still in a daze, she watched the buttons illuminate one by one, until the doors for the third floor opened. Stepping out into the lobby, she turned right, walked through the double doors and saw the nurses' station for Nightingale ward in front of her.

She took a deep breath and walked up to the desk. She took out her warrant card, feeling only slightly guilty about this misuse of her authority. "I'm DI Alex Drake and I'm looking for a patient of yours. A Gene Hunt. I was told he was here."

The nurse looked up at her. "Yes, he's here," she said. ""We haven't had any of your colleagues here for a while, though."

Alex nodded. Presumably if Gene had been admitted with a gunshot wound, someone from the police force would have come to investigate. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. But – has anyone told you about his condition?"

Alex shook her head.

"His wound caused critical injury and he has been unconscious since his admission. The consultants managed a successful removal of the bullet and expected that Mr Hunt would make a good recovery. But he hasn't regained consciousness since the operation. It's as though he doesn't want to come round. There's something holding him back."

Alex gripped the edge of the nurses' station. "Where is his room?"

The nurse pointed down the corridor and said, "Head left then he's in room G14, the room at the end."

Alex walked in the direction indicated and reached the door of the room marked G14. The blinds across the window were drawn and she couldn't see inside. She knocked the door and, receiving no reply, reached for the handle. Pausing, steadying her breath, squaring her shoulders, she turned the handle and entered.

xxxxx

He felt soft, cool fingers entwined with his own. It was as if he'd never been touched before. He knew he was looking for something but he didn't know what. Keep looking. Must keep looking.

Could he make out a voice? A woman's voice? Perhaps she could help him find what he was looking for. What was she saying? Sounded important. Life-changing.

"Can't believe you're here… Missed you so much… Don't understand what happened…"

Was that crying? Why was she crying? He felt a warm weight settle gently across his chest, could smell a familiar, flowery scent. What was that smell? It was beautiful.

"And look at you here... You've got tubes coming from places you probably don't even know you've got… Wake up, Gene… Please wake up…"

He felt relaxed, happy even, for the first time he could remember. He hoped she'd still be there when he woke. He felt himself drifting away again.

xxxxx

The nurse found Alex some time later, sitting next to Gene, her head pressed against his heart, her hand wrapped around his. Her eyes were red rimmed and expressionless. The nurse smiled at her and Alex jerked upright, keen to understand more about Gene's condition.

"How long will he be like this?"

The nurse smiled gently. "It's hard to tell. There don't seem to be any physiological reasons for Mr Hunt's coma. He could come round at any time. On the other hand… Well, some patients have remained in this state for months, years even. It hasn't helped that he's had so few visitors. We usually encourage relatives of coma patients to speak to them as much as possible – it seems to help reconnect them with the outside world. You should keep talking to him. You never know, it may be enough to wake him up."

The nurse checked Gene's monitors, adjusted his drip, scribbled something on his chart and then quietly left. Alex lowered herself back down so she was again resting on Gene's chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his breath ruffling the top of her head.

Alex let out a gentle sigh. If anyone knew the importance of talking to coma patients, it was her. After all, if she hadn't had Molly talking to her during her coma, she might never have come round. And she was only under for three days – Gene had been unconscious for a month.

She checked her watch. She had another couple of hours before Evan would be coming to find her at home. She decided to do the only thing she could think of to try to reach him. She started talking.

It was difficult at first, unnatural, but she persevered, chatting away about life in 2008, what he would find changed when he woke, what he would find the same. After a while, she found her voice trailing off. She lifted her head and took a long, close look at Gene's face. He looked intensely familiar, as if he was simply asleep in the bed they had shared in the flat above Luigi's. She traced her fingers along the line of his jaw, then ran her thumb along the bow of his bottom lip.

Alex thought back to their final night together, before the shooting. She'd had another stupid nightmare about the Clown and Gene had asked her live with him. She had hesitated at the time – been unsure because of Molly – and she'd put off talking about it, never told him that she'd love to get a place with him, to know that he'd always be there when she woke. Oh well, Alex sighed to herself. No time like the present.

xxxxx

She was still here. He could feel her warmth and the softness of her touch. And could hear her voice, clearly this time, telling him things he sensed he'd longed to hear.

"So sorry… should have told you at the time… how much I loved you… still love you…"

He could feel a soft hand tracing a pattern on his palm. Wanted to respond. Couldn't.

"Made the right choice – couldn't leave Molly – but hated leaving you... Think about you every day… all the time… never felt like this before…"

His hand was being turned over and warm lips pressed against his palm. Kisses being pressed against his fingertips. His head felt clearer.

"Want you to come back to me, Gene… to us… Molly would love you, too…"

Silence. Was she crying again? Please don't go. Talk some more. I feel close. Think I've found what I'm looking for.

Her hand held his again. Better.

"Don't want to have to live without you… want to be with you always… know you feel the same…"

That's it. Feel the same. Always felt the same. Concentrate. Show her.

xxxxx

Alex felt drained. All she'd wanted since waking up in her hospital bed was to see Gene again. And here he was. But it was all wrong, he was unconscious and no one could reassure her that he'd ever come back. It was unbearable.

Biting back a sob, Alex lifted Gene's hand to her face and nuzzled it against her cheek. "Please come back to us, Gene. I'll wait. However long it takes. But please come. Soon as you can."

She lowered his hand back to the mattress and was about to let go when she thought she felt it move against hers. She froze. Her heart juddered to a stop, then began to race in her chest. Calm down, Alex. It was probably nothing. You're just imagining it. But just in case…

"Gene," she whispered. She lowered her head so her lips were close to his ears. "Gene. Do that again, Gene. Please. Show me."

She waited, her hand gently wrapped around his, desperate to feel it move. "Please, Gene," she almost cried. Seconds stretched into minutes and she remained still, pleading under her breath for Gene to respond. Eventually, she felt it again. The slightest tightening of his hand within hers. And again. Her body sagged with relief. She lowered herself carefully against him.

"That's wonderful, Gene," she said softly, her free hand tracing patterns through his hair. Her eyes shone. "You're on your way. I'm going to go a fetch a nurse, now. Don't go anywhere. I'll be back in a minute."

Alex eased herself off the edge of the bed and turned to give Gene a gentle kiss goodbye. She brushed her lips softly against his, sighing at the familiar sensation. It wasn't enough – not nearly – but it would have to do for now. She closed her eyes, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. She didn't see Gene's own eyes flickering open to look at her.

"Don't go."

His voice was broken, even deeper than his usual growl. Alex's eyes flew to his. She fell to her knees beside his bed, her eyes bright and a dazed smile growing across her face.

"Gene! Oh, Gene, you're here! I'm so pleased to see you!" It was difficult to keep the tears away but she smiled through them.

"Don't leave," he repeated.

"No," she breathed. "Not leaving. Never leaving again."

Gene managed a smile. "Good."

"You had me worried, you know," Alex told him shakily. "For a while, I wasn't sure I'd see you again. I thought you'd disappeared."

"And leave you?" Speaking was an effort, but he had to tell her. "Never." But for now, this would have to be enough. He was out of energy and needed to sleep.

Alex watched over him as his eyes slowly closed and his breathing returned to the deep, even rumble she knew so well.

xxxxx

When Gene next awoke, Alex was sitting in the chair by his bedside, holding his hand, eyes closed and dozing quietly. He struggled to remember. He'd been shot. He'd been trying to save her. Seemed he'd succeeded, again.

And yet, in the end, she'd saved him. She'd somehow rescued him from the depths of sleep. Until he'd heard her voice, he hadn't been able to find a route through the fog. He'd struggled to find a way out of the clouds in his mind; her voice calling his name had been his guide. And she was still here, still holding him. It was his second chance. He didn't deserve it but he wasn't going to let it go. She needed him, he knew that now. And he would follow her anywhere.

"Bolly," he growled. He squeezed her fingers, keen to wake her. He wanted to begin their new life together right now. She opened her eyes and threw him a dazzling smile.

"I'm here, Gene," she replied softly. "Always here."

xxxxx

The end

xxxxx

Thank you so much for reading and for all the encouraging reviews. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter.

I'm not sure when I'll be able to write more as I'm expecting my second baby one week today and need to do loads of stuff in preparation. I'll keep checking on my favourite stories, though, as they'll keep me sane during the craziness of the newborn period.

All the best

Lou