"Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor,

Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief..."

"She's doing well, isn't she?"

Alex leaned back against the bench she was currently sharing with Evan White, watching her younger self playing with a girl she vaguely remembered in the little park about five minutes from her old house. It had been five months since the car bomb, and Alex was now firmly sheltered in 1982- it had helped, moving on a year, distanced her that little bit more from the terror and the agonising grief.

Of course, Evan had helped a little, being there for her and working to regain her trust; Alex had a lot more bone to pick with him than he thought, and she was still finding it hard to be around him despite his obvious attempts to get back in her good books. But she had to get used to him again, for if- when- she got home. Molly needed her godfather.

No, the main reason she was back to her usual self was currently out on a call somewhere in Fenchurch, with his DS and DC in tow. Gene had been almost kind to her ever since the explosion, treating her in a manner she would have assumed her Neanderthal DCI completely incapable of: he'd allowed her to get drunk but not legless in Luigi's, escorting her upstairs and bidding her goodnight every night, gently urging her to get back to doing ordinary things like going to the gym and shopping, even coming round a few times on the weekend at her request. Alex had to admit to herself that having his company was only part of the reason; he was the stuff of her dreams (literally) in his weekend wear, rugby top or old 70s style shirts over battered jeans and the ever-present snakeskin boots. The number of times she'd had to clench her hands by her sides to prevent herself dragging him into the bedroom and ravishing him to her heart's delight defied belief... but at least the distraction stopped her dwelling on the horrific events of the previous year, and that seemed to be good enough for Gene.

"Much more chirpy," Evan continued abstractly next to her, and Alex dragged herself back to the present, shaking her head to try and rid herself of thoughts of her DCI in her bedroom. Evan frowned.

"You don't think so?"

"No, no, not that, just a fly."

Evan smiled.

"And how are you? Hunt said you were like a zombie after Tim and Caroline died, walking around in an utter daze."

"I'm f- you've been talking to Gene?"

Alex almost fell off the bench in her surprise. Evan simply nodded, his eyes on little Alex, not noticing his companion's shock.

"I've seen him around a couple of times. He lives quite close to me; Alex always wants to talk to him if she sees him, she almost dragged us in front of a car once in her eagerness, as kids do. Thank God Hunt yelled for the car to stop or it would've hit the both of us, bloody driver was reading the newspaper- imagine! Typical cab driver."

Alex frowned; she couldn't remember any such occurences, or any close shaves with a car, but then again, that didn't count for much anymore. Her memories of her life pre-shooting were fading alarmingly fast: she had taken to writing random recollections down in an attempt to salvage them from dying altogether, spending hours each night flicking through her notebooks and listening to Dictaphone recordings. At least it reminded her of Molly- she'd dedicated a whole notebook and hours of recording to her daughter.

"He doesn't tell you to bugger off?"

"Well. He rarely speaks to me, and when he does it's to keep appearances up in front of Alex. I don't think he likes me very much," he said drily, his lip tweaking up. Alex allowed herself a giggle.

"Yes, I thought that would be Gene's attitude."

"Gene, not Hunt or Guv? Do I detect something more than a working relationship here?" Evan murmured, sending her a sly look. Alex flushed red.

"Thought so," Evan chuckled, his eyes flicking between the two little girls playing on the jungle gym and the woman sitting scarlet-faced inches away from him. "I don't blame you, Alex. Gene Hunt is sex on legs, anyone can see that."

Alex turned an even darker shade of crimson.

"Oh no- no, that's not- we haven't-"

"You haven't?" Evan looked incredulous. "Why not? I know Hunt's a dinosaur, but anyone can see that he can be tamed."

Alex shifted, partially out of a slight throbbing down below from thinking about Gene Hunt and herself in the kind of relationship Evan was implying, partially from the awkwardness of talking about sex with the man who had brought her up.

"Well, he's my boss, and- we've both been through difficult relationships before, and he needs to be able to concentrate on his team... it wouldn't work."

Evan frowned, leaning forwards, watching her with a new intensity.

"He's got a heart of gold underneath the gruff exterior. Sweet as pie when he's with Alex. And I heard about Reeks, as well- lending him his suit for a court appearance... look, Alex, I know it would be awkward, seeing as he's your boss, but as long as you ignored pointless station gossip that the pair of you probably attract already, you could be really happy with him."

Alex sighed.

"The drinking, the smoking... And what if we broke up? One of us would have to transfer. Probably me."

Her unwitting godfather let out a growl of frustration.

"You have to stop dwelling on the negatives! A man like Gene wouldn't let you go without a fight. Maybe you've both been hurt in the past, but neither of you strike me as the shrinking violet type, and I happen to know that you've not been idle since you transferred here."

Alex spluttered.

"He told you? Gene, you ba-"

"No, no, not Hunt! He was an acquaintance of mine. Related the tale to me. Also told me that Hunt all but kicked him out of Luigi's the night after your, er, dalliance. Like a lion protecting his lioness, that's how he phrased it."

Evan's eyes were burning into Alex's with an almost painful intensity; she shivered, clamping her jacket further around herself.

"Look, Alex. I know I'm not the best person to be giving relationship advice, but please, come to your senses. Hunt wants you, I'm pretty sure of it, and you want him. You'll have gossip and scandal whatever you do, a high-flying woman like yourself in such a male-dominated society as the Met- it's unavoidable. If you work, you can make it try, I'm sure-"

He was interrupted by a bleeping from his watch; glancing at it, he swore profusely.

"Oh, sorry, Alex. Sorry."

"That's alright," Alex giggled, almost endeared by the look of apology on his face. "You should meet DS Ray Carling someday, he'd make you look like the Pope with his mouth. A sailor would faint."

Evan laughed, gathering his coat and slinging it over his shoulders, calling to Alex.

"Alex? Come on, we've got to get back. I've got an appointment to keep."

Little Alex looked disappointed, but ran over reluctantly, trailing a string of daisies in one hand and a four-leafed clover in the other.

"Look, Evan! I found a four-leafed clover, and me and Michelle made a daisy chain, she said I could have it. We were playing Tinker Tailor Soldier Copper."

"Tinker Tailor Soldier what?" older Alex asked, frowning. The young girl laughed, a peal of bells.

"Tinker Tailor Soldier Copper. Michelle gets seasick, so she says copper instead of sailor. It rhymes too, doesn't it, Evan?"

"Yep," Evan smiled, taking his goddaughter's small hand in his. "It's been lovely talking to you, Alex. We should do this again sometime."

"It's been nice," Alex replied civilly, trying not to think of what she could have been doing while she'd been here. As usual, a certain Mancunian's face cropped up in her thoughts, and she bit back a sigh, waving Evan and little Alex off as her younger self chirruped "Goodbye Alex!" and Evan hurried her towards their house, pausing only to smile and wave back.

As she bent to slide her boots up her legs, Alex's eyes came to rest on a single battered daisy, lying on the grass. It must have fallen off the chain little Alex had been carrying.

She picked it up, twirling it round in her fingers, smiling at the simple beauty of the tiny flower. The petals shone pearly white in the strained spring sunshine, the dainty colours against her baby-pink nail varnish so innocent and girlish it made her want to cry for a second.

Then an idea sprang to mind, and she reached out tentatively with her other hand, picking one petal off and dropping it on the ground at her feet, murmuring under her breath.

"Tinker..."

A second fell to accompany the first; Alex warmed to her game, plucking enthusiastically, grinning sheepishly to herself as she played a game she was about twenty-five years too old for.

"... Tailor, soldier, copper!"

She started as she said the word, pulling the last petal off. She hadn't even realised she'd changed the words to Michelle's game sub-consciously, but it had given her a message she couldn't ignore.

"Thank you, Michelle," she murmured, letting the stem fall from her fingers. Her radio crackled as though on cue, and she eased it from her belt, her face split in a beam as she answered.

"DI Drake."

"Bolly? We got the bastard, get yer delectable arse back ter CID, 'e's a bit frisky an' we'll need yer ter analyse 'im ter sleep when we get there."

Alex bit her lip to stop herself laughing, answering in an annoyed tone; she enjoyed playing these games with Gene, winding him up or allowing him to irritate her, knowing it was just the way he was, a sort of brash macho playfulness that he would always have, it was in his Manchester blood.

The sound of a scuffle distracted them both; there were several yelps from the other end, mostly Cockney curses and Mancunian grunts. Alex rolled her eyes, collecting her coat and shoving the radio in her pocket, heading towards CID. From the sounds of it, "frisky" was a bit of an understatement, and she didn't want DS Carling to get the chance to wreak a repeat performance of last Tuesday. That was almost certainly one bloodline ended permanently.

Had she looked behind her at the daisy lying decapitated on the ground, she would have seen that five of the petals almost seemed to spell out a G.

"Keep still."

"What the bloody 'ell is that?"

"Antiseptic, Gene. Since I doubt you have any in whatever you call home, I'll give you a little bit more-"

"OW!"

"Baby."

Yes, frisky was an understatement. Alex sighed as the DCI who had occupied most of her conversation with Evan snatched his arm away from her for the umpteenth time, hissing through his teeth at the pain from his disinfected arm. Trevor Wren had been more like a hawk than his namesake; Ray was sporting a magnificent shiner outside, making out it had been an accident while he slammed Wren into the Quattro, and Chris was in one of the interview rooms having a sprained wrist bandaged up by Shaz. She had been lumbered with the task of cleaning Gene up, or to put it more succinctly, trying to keep him relatively still and only whining a little while she daubed antiseptic on the thick cut on his arm.

"Ideally, you should be getting stitches for this," she sighed at him, dragging an ancient bandage out from the first-aid box; from the looks of it, it hadn't seen the light of day for many a DCI at the helm of the station. She wouldn't have been surprised if boxes similar had been unearthed as fossils. Gene knocked her hands away, pulling his shirt sleeve down and growling at her attempts to roll it up again, managing to edge past her and make a clean getaway into his office. Alex groaned, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance at Shaz, coming in to get some pink wafers for Chris.

"I've asked Chris to keep 'is wrist slinged an' bandaged. Ray looks like 'e forgot to take 'is mascara off last night. 'Ow's the Guv?"

"Stubborn, as usual," Alex replied, trying not to wince at the mental image of DS Carling in mascara, sparkly lip-gloss and a red PVC dress; it was amusing and disturbing in equal measure. Shaz rolled her eyes, reminding Alex for a haunting second of Molly.

"Ah well, only to be expected. You got any plans for tonight? I was gonna go to the flicks with Chris, but with 'is wrist the way it is I think 'e'd be better off stayin' at 'ome."

"Actually, er, I've got someone coming, or at least, I will once I've asked them. Hopefully."

Shaz looked round slyly, almost the exact same look on her face as Evan; Alex wondered if she was auditioning for some kind of imitation show.

"Would that someone be tellin' Ray 'e looks like a pirate workin' as a maths teacher outside?"

They both paused in their conversation, hearing Ray's reply of "It's not that bloody bad, Guv!" over the sniggering of the DCs. Shaz raised her eyebrows, for once managing to look exactly like her own witty self.

"Go on, ma'am. I don't want to see eiver of ya in Luigi's tonight, OK?"

Alex stared at the WPC, her mind beginning to go into overdrive; Shaz laughed.

"Come on, ma'am, a llama could see 'ow fond you are of each uvver. Go an' ask 'im."

Hoping she had made her superior officer see sense, Shaz headed out with her biscuits and a cup of tea, grinning to herself as she plonked the things down on Chris's desk and set about typing up a letter.

"How's the arm, Guv?" Alex asked ten minutes later, after a trip to the loos to touch up her make-up and some serious psyching up. Gene glanced up at her, conveying with one glance that if she asked him one more poofy question he would either demote her or bend her over his desk as punishment. His groin stirred at the latter, and he shifted uncomfortably, hoping Alex would think it was his arm and not his third leg.

"Did yer come in fer anythin' else, DI Drake?"

He picked up his tumbler of whisky, forgetting to use his good arm; the cut seared with pain, and he prayed she thought it was the sting of the whisky making him wince rather than his injury.

"What're you doing tonight?"

"Annoyin' Luigi. Gettin' pissed. Same old same old. You?"

"I wondered if you'd like to come over to my place tonight. Have dinner with me."

He almost spluttered the whisky out over his desk. He'd been in her place plenty of times, yes, but this was a blatant invitation and said without a hint of tears; this was a whole new ball game compared to her usual tearful summons of him on the phone.

"Depends on the dinner." What a shit response, you div.

Alex simply smiled. "Well, I hear someone's fond of steak and chips."

Gene inclined his head. "Must be a lot o' little birdies out there then. Yer on. If it's not too much trouble," he added, suddenly panicking. Don't want ter scare 'er.

His DI laughed. "I wouldn't be asking if it was too much trouble, Guv. So shall we say seven?"

Well done, Gene. Looking like a complete and utter twonk in front of 'er. Yer may as well go off an' join Ray an' Chris in the art o' bloody mascara. "Fine. Don't be late."

He realised too late that he was being an idiot again, but Alex just beamed and waltzed out, her hips swaying. Gene's eyes rested firmly on her arse; although she could tell, Alex just walked on, perhaps even exaggerating the swing a little.

Tonight would be entertaining. Evan would be proud.

And, Alex realised with a pang, so would Molly.

A/N: More will be up soon, if people want it! Hope it was enjoyed, and please remember to review. Jazzola

RIP Nelson