Disclaimer; I don't own any of the characters from Ashes to Ashes, that's all the BBC's doing. This is my first ever fanfic, so please be gentle when reviewing. Actually, don't, just be honest! I've got a fair way to go with this story, but I'm really enjoying writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too!

Chapter One;

Alex was falling, again.
This time, she didn't land in her bed, on her sofa, on the damp wood of the docks, on the cold linoleum floor of CID or on Gene Hunt. This time Alex plunged into icy cold water, sinking deeper into the cold and deeper into the dark. Despite feeling the weight of the water push her downwards, Alex burst through the surface gasping for air, her arms patting the water, as if it were a solid object with which she would be able to lift herself out of the cold. She kicked her legs in order to stay afloat and looked around, frantically searching for a clue as to where she was. The boats, the buildings, and the people- she was in the Thames.
Alex willed herself to shout for help, to splash her arms, to scream, but she was powerless in this world. In this world, her everything had already been decided. With a calm breaststroke, she swam to the edge and looked up at the pavement to see Molly, with Evan, waving.
"Are you staying Mum? Me and Evan are going, are you staying here?"
Alex opened her mouth to tell her daughter that she wasn't staying, that she was going to come home with her and Evan, but she began to choke on water and it spilled out of her mouth.
Molly shifted her weight onto one hip impatiently, much like Alex did on a daily basis, and opened her mouth to shout "Bolly! Bolly! Bolly!"

Alex awoke with a start, shocked at hearing his voice come from Molly's body. Comforted by her familiar surroundings, she lay back onto the sofa. What did that one mean? That Molly and Evan are giving up on me? Maybe I'm on life support? Maybe I really am stuck here and there's no way back? She felt unsure about the word 'stuck' as sometimes, often for whole hours, Alex Drake did not feel stuck. She felt content and happy, as if this was where she was meant to be. Of course, this was immediately followed by long, bleak periods of guilt, punishing whatever tiny part of her mind that had momentarily abandoned her little girl.
"Don't go anywhere Molls, I'm not staying here. I promised you that I'm coming back to you, so please don't go anywhere Molly," Alex whispered to her daughter as she sleepily rolled onto her side, pulling the duvet up to under her chin. She shut her eyes.
Round two, she thought.
Her peace was interrupted by a loud and sudden banging at the door.
"Bolly! You in there Bolly? This is no time to be shagging Thatcherite wankers, let me in!" Gene's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence of the flat and causing Alex's heart to flutter.
She groaned, swinging her legs off of the sofa and glancing at the clock on the wall. Quarter to five, bloody hell. The door seemed far away as she padded through her flat. If he's drunk I'll slap him, I'll actually slap him.
"Sorry it took so long for me to answer, I had to wait for the Thatcherite wanker that I was shagging to climb out of the window," she said as she swung open the door, giving Gene an over exaggerated smile. Will he ever let that go? It was his own fault, it could've been-
"'Ope he broke his bloody neck," Gene said quickly as he strode inside, trying to discreetly search for any signs that she wasn't joking. The thought of another man touching Alex made his stomach churn. Come to think of it, the thought of me touching her makes my stomach churn. Once satisfied, he clapped his hands and turned on his heel to face her, "Right Bolly Knickers, we've got ourselves a body for breakfast, so put on some slap and squeeze into those jeans of yours, I want the murdering scum caught and banged up in time for lunch so that we, as you and I, can get nice and pissed."
Alex sighed, "Give me five minutes."
Gene's eyes followed Alex's shape as she slunk off to the bathroom; the black shirt that she was wearing teased him by only just reaching her thighs. Does she know that shirt was once mine? In his head he followed her, removing his clothes and stepping into the shower with her. He imagined kissing her neck and shoulders as he soaped her up, but in reality he rooted himself to his current spot, hands in pockets and waited. What for?

**********************************
"Well yeah, that's what I said. I said 'Sorry love, but I don't trust anything that bleeds for a week and doesn't die', and if you've got any sense then you won't either" Ray warned, raising his eyebrows at Chris.
"Yeah, but Shaz is-"
"-The body is Richard Croft, 38, flash business git, one wife and one son. The security guard at his office found him this morning," Gene barked over them as he steered, or swung Alex thought, the Quattro through the street.
She opened her mouth to ask her boss how the man had died, but he beat her. Am I that predictable? Or does he know me that well?
"Shot."

**********************************
Alex shook her head at the pitiful sight before her. A middle aged man, no older than forty, was slumped over in his chair. The blood from the bullet hole had seeped through his white shirt to provide a target on his chest, however it was too late, someone had already taken their shot. His trousers and boxers had been pulled down, leaving him exposed to anyone who happened to walk into the office.
"Bloody hell!" spluttered Ray as he walked in, "it's too early for this." He shook his head.
"Finally!" Gene spat, looking past Ray to the approaching coroner, "What time d'ya call this?"
"Eleven minutes past six" he answered flatly, moving past Gene to the body, seeming eager to get to work.
Alex studied the coroner as he tested the body expertly. He wasn't the greying man that she had come to expect, he was young, tall, dark and, she was surprised to see, handsome. Not my type, well, not anymore anyway. Alex wasn't sure what her 'type' was anymore, or rather she was, but she chose not to think about it. How can one man make everything so complicated? I thought I knew myself, but maybe he knows me better. The coroner looked up to catch her staring and she gave him an embarrassed, apologetic smile. She sidled up next to Gene, "he's new," she said nodding to the coroner.
"Is he?" Shit, she noticed. He puffed out his chest, now feeling self conscious and uneasy. It was only natural that she would make comparisons between the two men and Gene was aware that there were few to be made. I'm tall too.
Alex rolled her eyes and strutted over to the handsome stranger. "Hi, you're new aren't you? I'm Di Drake," she said smiling and extending her hand, "but please, call me Alex. So, any idea what killed him?" She immediately cringed at her joke.
"Well, it's taken all of my expertise, but I have carefully deduced that this man, was shot," he said smiling and taking Alex's hand, "I'm Stephen, Stephen Whitteth. I'm so sorry, I have to dash off, I'll send a full report to the station later. Anyway, it has been lovely, although brief, to meet you Alex. I hope we'll meet again, even if that means some poor soul has to die, is that wrong?"
Alex laughed, "No, well, a bit, but I'm sure they'll get over it! Bye, Stephen."
With a final smile to Alex and a nod to Ray who was standing by the door, he left.
Gene crept up behind Alex, who was still watching the man leave, and stooped so that his head hovered above her shoulder and next to her ear. "When you've quite finished batting those eyelashes of yours Bolly, we've got a spotty security guard to question," he said as he swept towards to the door, his coat bellowing after him.
"I was not batting my eyelashes, I was being friendly, it's a pass time that some of us choose to indulge ourselves in," Alex said dryly as she trotted to catch up with him. Is he jealous? A few months ago he would've had every reason to be, but not now. There's no comparison.

****************************************
"Ok, so your name is Michael Lawrenson?" Alex took the teenagers nervous nod as a signal to continue, "Can you just take us through your actions this morning please Michael?"
"I ain't done no actions Miss, I've been on the long shift, twelve 'ours, since six yesterday evening. At 'alf five this mornin' I decided to do the final rounds, just checkin' in on everythin' before I clocked off, you know? And that's when I found him, Mr Croft, in his office."
The young man, no older that eighteen, was obviously nervous and fidgeted in his seat; a typical sign that a person was lying, something that Gene Hunt did not fail to notice.
"What's up with you? Got piles or something?" he fired, making Michael Lawrenson jump. "Tell us about last night Michael, not notice anything suspicious? No one coming and going? No gun shots?"
"No, no sir, no gun shots, didn't 'ear a thing. Mr Croft was 'ere when I arrived at six, said he was workin' late, he 'as been a lot lately. At about three a girl arrived, an 'ooker, Cherish I think 'er name was, sayin' that she'd got a call from Mr Croft, askin' her to come 'ere. She was only in there a few minutes an' then she left," Michael exhaled, feeling that his job was now done.
"And that was normal was it? Mr Croft inviting prostitutes to the office?" Alex quizzed him.
"Yeah, he's done it a few times now, I didn't think nothing of it."
"And the fact that she only stayed for a few minutes? What did you think of that?"
"Well, I just thought he'd changed his mind or somethin', or that he'd...finished."
"That's all it takes for some men Bolly, however, some of us keep things going for a bit longer, if you know what I mean?" Gene leant on the desk, turning to Alex and raising his eyebrow.
"I always know what you mean DCI Hunt," she sighed impatiently, getting tired of this interview. "So, Michael, Mr Croft was here when you started your shift, at six yesterday evening and no one entered or left the building until the prostitute, Cherish, arrived at around three, leaving a few minutes later? And you didn't find the body until you were checking the building at half past five this morning?"
"Why were you doing rounds? You've got CCTV, all you have to do is keep that seat warm," Gene interrupted before Michael had chance to confirm Alex's statement.
"It's not working sir, see?" Michael turned on the screen in front of him to reveal nothing but a black, fuzzy picture.
"Mr Croft's wallet is missing, know anything about that?"
"No, no sir."
"Ok, well thank you Michael, if there are any problems then we'll be in touch," Alex flashed a reassuring, gentle smile and turned on her heel to leave the offices, Gene at her side. I love her most when she's like this, gentle and kind.