Disclaimer: Not, alas, mine. I only play with them in amusing ways before handing them back for their official torment at the hands of MandA.

A/N: In the general run of things I wouldn't bother you with anything quite so lacking in content, but as this is the first and only thing the muse has condescended to collaborate on since series two, I thought I'd post it for its rarity value. Many thanks to allofmyheart for swift beta work.

-xOx-

Real

The sky was the most amazing blue, it really was. Even with that golden tint to the light that was a feature of late summer, the intense colour seemed almost too much to bear. With her head resting against the wall behind her, Alex Drake gazed at the sky, conscious of the warmth from the bricks against her back, and the bulk of Gene Hunt at her front.

It was just as well he had her sandwiched against the wall really, because she wasn't at all sure she'd be able to walk just yet. She wouldn't ever admit as much, but he must be able to feel her trembling. His forehead was virtually resting on her shoulder, hands flat against the yellow London brick either side of her, gasping for air. He'd certainly put in plenty of effort. She could feel his heart hammering under her palm as she rested her hands against his chest.

Of course it was ridiculous, to end up like this. But in the heat of the moment rational thinking had flown out of the window and instinct had kicked in. Gene's instinct, it turned out, resulted in her ending up pinned against a wall. Next time I'm going to be the one taking the lead, she thought. Next time? Better not be a next time.

But at this moment it felt good to be alive, she couldn't deny it. If being here, in the eighties, was being alive at all. With an effort she levered her head forward, still panting for breath, perspiration trickling down her back from their recent exertions. She squinted at Gene, the scarred skin and the rather patchy sideburn all that was visible of his face. This late in the summer his blond hair was at its fairest, now darkened with sweat at his neck and ears. She noticed a tiny patch of stubble he'd missed with his razor; must have been in a hurry this morning. Why on earth would her mind provide such incredibly tiny detail like that? He had to be real, didn't he? He felt real. At this moment he felt very real indeed.

Gene shifted slightly and the hot puffs of laboured breathing shifted from her shoulder to the side of her neck.

"You okay?"

His Mancunian accent sounded thicker than usual, the voice soft. It was a long time since he'd asked her that, she realised, and she'd missed it. He levered himself off the wall to peer at her. Not trusting herself to speak yet, she merely nodded. A slightly mischievous glint came in his eye.

"Dunno about you, Bolls, but reckon I felt the earth move."

She looked blankly at him for a moment, still a little dazed, then gave a snort of laughter as it registered.

"Next you'll be saying you heard bells," she scoffed.

On cue, sirens wailed into earshot and Gene raised an expressive eyebrow.

"Tinnitus, guv. You should get that checked," she laughed, pushing him clear.

He slapped ineffectually at the dust that had settled on his suit and glowered at the group of shocked alloment owners. One old man still clutching a garden fork in his shaking hands, eyes wide and mouth open, gazing at the scene in stunned surprise.

"What's the matter with you, grandad? Never seen anything go bang before?" Gene turned back to Alex. "Come on then, dusty knickers. Cavalry's arriving. We'd better go and find out if Charlie managed to blow up himself as well as his shed. Bloody fool. Damn nearly killed us..."

The End

I know what you're going to say, but I can't be held responsible for what you thought, can I? But I'll be running in the opposite direction anyway, just in case you don't agree...