Thanks to the speed and dedication of my lovely beta RedSkyAtNight, you can now have the tenth and final chapter. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me this far!

Alex arrived back to a cold, grey London and went straight back to her flat, unwilling to face anyone else that day. The next morning, however, there was no putting it off; she had to gird her loins, go in to work and tell everybody what had happened.

Speculation had been rife in CID at Fenchurch East once it had been noticed that the Guv and DI Drake had gone on leave at the same time, and especially when further discussion had revealed that both of them had, separately, made mention of going to Spain. Not surprisingly, all heads turned to Alex when she walked into the office on Tuesday morning. Might as well take the bull by the horns, she thought, and addressed the office at large. "Good morning, everyone. Right, I have an announcement to make…" Briefly she explained the investigation into Lane in which she and Gene had been engaged, and then told them about Gene's injury. When she had finished her explanation, the team stood, open-mouthed. Ray was the first to speak.

"Bloody 'ell, so, you were actually working out there?"

"Yeah, we all thought you were just sha -" Chris broke off quickly as Shaz gave him a swift kick under the desk.

"So, is the Guv going to be all right?" There was genuine concern in Ray's face.

"Yes, Ray, he'll be fine. He's got to stay in hospital for at least a week, though, maybe more, so he probably won't be back in work for quite some time."

That's what you think, lady, thought Ray to himself, but did not bother to voice his thoughts.

"Right then," Alex continued in a businesslike tone. "I'm going to get this film to the Photographic Department so that they can develop it as quickly as possible, and then," she grimaced, "I shall have to go and explain to the Super why Gene's not back. After that I'd like a thorough briefing on what's been going on here – Ray, will you be OK to do that?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ray with assurance.

Alex did as she said, calling in to Photographic and then going to speak to the Superintendent. He looked rather bemused as she explained about Gene's plan to gather evidence about Stephen Lane, and his subsequent injury. He didn't say a great deal, just murmured things about 'most unexpected' and 'really very irregular'. At the end of the interview, though, he seemed to pull himself together and fixed her with a steely glare. "You haven't heard the last of this, you know, DI Drake," he said sternly. "I shall have to tell the Chief Superintendent about the matter."

"Yes, of course, Sir," she replied politely. Once dismissed, she stepped out into the corridor, leant back against the wall and heaved a heavy sigh. It seemed as though the problems might be only beginning.

On Thursday morning Alex received a summons to a meeting at 11am with both the Super and the Chief Superintendent. On her way there she called in at Photographic again and collected the photos. She was very pleased to see that they clearly showed the faces of Lane and all his associates, and the scene in which he was evaluating the young girls. Feeling that she had good ammunition, she went in to meet her superiors.

"Ah, DI Drake, sit down." The Chief Superintendent greeted her. Alex went straight to pull out the photos. "Sir, I just got these back, I believe you'll have to agree that they make quite compelling evidence against Lane -"

"Drake," the Chief Superintendent interrupted, "before you continue, there is something you should know. Stephen Lane was found drowned in Puerto Banus harbour yesterday."

Alex stared at him, open-mouthed, completely dumbfounded by this piece of news. Before she could think of anything to say, the Superintendent chipped in. "Yes. Of course it's not obvious yet whether his death was an accident or the result of foul play, but privately, it looks very much as though his criminal associates decided he was too much of a risk after your little interruption, and decided to get him out of the way."

"Rendering the evidence provided by these photographs rather irrelevant," continued the Chief Superintendent in a superior tone. "Which means, DI Drake, that we must move on to the main purpose of this meeting, which is to discuss the wisdom or otherwise of your taking part in DCI Hunt's little scheme…"

Alex did not enjoy the rest of the interview. The Chief Superintendent used words like 'irresponsible', 'rash', 'foolhardy' and 'reckless',. He made it quite clear that while such maverick behaviour was no more than could be expected from Gene Hunt, he was shocked and disappointed that Alex had consented to go along with it. He pointed out the dangers of ignoring standard police procedure, the negative publicity which might ensue if the press got wind of the affair, and the risks to personal safety, a matter in which, of course, circumstances entirely vindicated him. Alex would normally have argued vociferously, but the news of Lane's death had taken the wind out of her sails: now that there was no chance of bringing Lane to justice, it did begin to seem as though they had taken a stupid risk for no benefit. Indeed, as she sat mutely nodding and putting in the occasional "Yes, Sir," "No, Sir," she felt more and more as though the Chief Superintendent was right. What on earth had possessed her to agree to Gene's proposal, flying in the face of all logic and sense? It was a subdued and chastened Alex who made her way slowly back down the stairs to CID when the interview was over.

Having told the team all about the Lane investigation, Alex realised that she needed to let them know about his death. Unable to face standing up and addressing them all again, she simply called Ray over to her desk, told him and asked him to pass on the information.

Ray looked into her sombre face with uncharacteristic empathy. "Did that pair of tossers upstairs give you a bollockin'?" he asked.

"Yes, Ray, they did rather," Alex sighed.

Ray's ice-blue gaze held her own. "Listen, ma'am." She had rarely seen him so serious. "I remember when we were on Lane's case, before. 'E were a right bastard. I remember some of the girls 'e dumped on the streets an' all. You and the Guv did the right thing, goin' after 'im. Don't forget that."

"Thanks, Ray." She smiled at him rather weakly. I really appreciate you saying that, Ray. I just wish I could believe you. Maybe…Oh God, I don't know. I don't know what to think any more.

The week seemed to drag by. Alex was in charge of the department, but there didn't seem to be anything pressing going on; she and the rest of the team spent a lot of time sitting at their desks, reading files or at least pretending to. Chris listened to his Walkman. All the time Alex was very conscious of Gene's empty, darkened office: it felt so wrong. The whole place just felt lifeless when he wasn't there. On Friday evening she was glad to escape, get a couple of bottles from Luigi to take upstairs, and spend the evening drinking herself into comfortable numbness. She spent the weekend mooching around her flat, trying unsuccessfully to distract herself with television. She couldn't help her thoughts returning time and again to Gene, yet at the same time, she felt foolish for having gone along with a scheme which had earned her so much castigation from her superiors, and a little angry with Gene for having persuaded her to go in the first place. Her growing attraction to him couldn't be denied any longer, but she was still very unsure what to do about it. All the reasons for not getting involved were still there: it would be unprofessional, unworkable and she was still supposed to be trying to get home, for God's sake! The conflicting thoughts and emotions went round and round in her head, never reaching a conclusion, until she was exhausted. On Monday morning she dragged herself into work feeling as though she hadn't had a weekend at all.

Monday was dull, grey and tedious, just like all the other days. It was almost time to leave when Ray came back from an errand, wandered over to Alex's desk and remarked "Guv's back."

"What?" Alex looked up, uncomprehending. "He can't be back yet, he'll barely be out of hospital!"

Ray gave her an old-fashioned look. "'E's back. Viv just saw 'im going up to the Super's office. Reckon they'll want to give 'im a bollockin' too."

By now the others had started to gather around, having overheard Ray mentioning the Guv. He looked around at the circle of interested faces, then glanced at his watch. "Come on," he said to the team in general, "let's get down to Luigi's and wait fer 'im there, 'e'll not be long." There was a general flurry of movement as they hastened to follow his suggestion. Alex stood in the middle of it all, a little nonplussed, but then shrugged, put her coat on and made to follow them. If she was going to see Gene again so soon, she'd probably need a drink.

Gene made his way slowly down the stairs from the Superintendent's office. The dressing-down he had received from the Super and Chief Super had been much what he had expected, but he still felt angry and resentful. If he hadn't been injured, if Lane had not died, then they would have been able to present some bloody good evidence against him and he was pretty sure that the irregular way they had gathered it would have been largely overlooked. It was only because it had gone wrong that they were able to get all righteous about it. He felt gutted and cheated about Lane, too: OK, being found face down in a harbour was no less than the bastard deserved, but Gene had really wanted to see him in court. Bollocks. Time for a drink.

His mood was not helped by the discomfort in his arm. Bloody-mindedness had made him discard the sling which the hospital had insisted was still necessary, but now twinges of pain across his shoulder were making him begin to regret it. He really did need that drink. He headed past Viv on the desk, outside, down the steps of the police station and over to Luigi's. He hoped the team would be there – he would never have admitted it, but they were pretty much friends and family all rolled into one for him. And he really wanted to see Alex, although God knew how she'd react to him – her behaviour seemed to be different every time he saw her. At the top of the steps down to the trattoria he paused, took a deep breath and exhaled through pursed lips. Then he headed down the stairs.

As the familiar tall, black-coated figure appeared in the doorway a hush fell over the chattering team inside; one by one heads turned as they noticed him, bodies turning towards him… In the silence Ray started the clapping and immediately they all joined in, faces grinning, hands applauding in welcome: the familiar policemen's standing ovation. Gene remembered it from the old days, back in the Railway Arms, when one or more of the team had come in after an injury or a job particularly well done. "Like being drunk on meself," he'd said, when Sam had asked him what it felt like. It didn't exactly feel like that now – the case hadn't really come to a satisfying conclusion – but it meant a great deal to him to know that, whatever those tossers upstairs might say, his team was still one hundred per cent behind him. If he'd been a lesser man, it would have brought a lump to his throat. As it was he just stood there for a moment or two, taking it in, then grinned and strode across to the bar, as arms reached out to clap him on the back, shouting "All right, who's goin' to be the first to have the privilege of buyin' me a drink?" The biggest grin of all belonged to Luigi, who hastened forward exclaiming "Signor Hunt!" Alex, watching from a corner, smiled to herself. Luigi had been so concerned when she'd told him about Gene's injury; he really was like a mother hen to them all, and obviously delighted to see Gene back.

Alex herself hung back in the corner, still not sure what to say. In any case it was right to leave Gene to be feted by his old team, who crowded round him, talking, laughing, asking questions. She heard Ray expounding on Stephen Lane, Shaz asking after Gene's arm. Chris seemed intrigued by the fact that Gene had received Spanish blood in hospital. "So, does that mean you'll, er, start liking paella and talkin' foreign and that?" After about ten minutes though, Gene detached himself from them and came quietly over to her.

"Bols. How are you?"

"Oh, OK." Talking to him wasn't as awkward as she'd expected. "What about you? How's the arm? Shouldn't you still have a sling on?"

"'S fine." His tone was more abrupt than he intended, probably because the arm was in fact hurting him. Alex noticed and decided to let it go; she remembered what had happened last time she'd given him a lecture.

"So, did you hear about Lane?" she offered.

"Yes. Pissed off about that. I'd really have liked to see to see that bastard banged up." He looked bitter for a moment, distant. Then he looked back at her. "What did the Super say to you?"

She shrugged. "Much the same as he said to you, I imagine. 'Irresponsible', 'unprofessional', that sort of thing. Told me I should be ashamed of myself for my lack of judgment, going along with your hare-brained scheme."

"Hmmh." He gave a grunt of derision, but then realised that she sounded unsure, as though she half believed it. He caught her gaze and held it again, the dark-rimmed, grey-blue eyes burning into her like laser beams. "And what do you think, Alex? You saw those girls in that yard, saw the state they were in. Do you think it was irresponsible, trying to put a stop to that?"

She looked up into the burning eyes, the fierce, uncompromising face, and all doubt vanished. "Of course not," she replied, feeling an odd sort of relief at the realisation. How could she ever have doubted it? "No, of course you're right. It was worth doing anything to put an end to it."

He gave a small nod; he'd been momentarily shaken by the idea that she might have lost faith in him. Suddenly, it mattered a lot that she hadn't.

"And, Gene…" Her eyes softened and she laid a hand on his forearm. "It's good to have you back. Really."

He looked down at her hand and covered it with his own, then looked back to her face. "Thanks, Bols," he murmured.

Just then a shout went up from the rest of the team: "Guv! Guv! Over 'ere!" He glanced over to them, then back at Alex, and gave her hand a squeeze; she returned it, curling her fingers around his, and then he released her and headed back into the midst of the throng, who were now engaged in some drinking game. Alex sat sipping her wine and watching him, the blond head, the laughing face, in among his friends and colleagues, a wistful, slightly dreamy smile on her face. Yes, she thought serenely to herself. Yes. If he tries to kiss me again, I might just let him.

THE END

And there you have it, folks. I'll just stand back now and wait to be lynched for not ending with rampant, fluffy Galex... sorry but I just wanted have a slightly frustrating, ambiguous end such as you might have on one of the TV episodes. Would love to hear your thoughts on it!