(A/n - this vaguely follows on to 'In his head - Inspired by the song 'Someone like you' by Adele)

I don't own anything of Ashes

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In her head.

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When she reached forty Alex Drake had a party. Everyone except her had fun and it was spoken of for a long time. Alex never forgot her party either. The night she found Molly wrapped around the skinny spotty creature; knickers around one of her ankles.

'Just fuck off, you crazy old bag.' Molly had looked at her and sneered.

Alex stumbled away from her daughter, who giggled nastily in the back alley where she was servicing the nameless boy. 'True your mother's a fucking copper?' the boy jeered.

'Yeah- filth' Alex heard Molly reply.

Pete came for Molly a few days later. He was rich; had finally written that great novel, and others. He promised Molly her own flat.

'Bye' Molly looked her mother.

Alex scanned her daughter's face deeply, finding only a void. 'If you need me….' she began.

Molly silenced her, 'I won't.'

Pete drew her to one side, 'Get help- you can't go on like this- it's been years.'

'It's the truth Pete.' she whispered.

He nodded, 'I know you think it is.'

'Dad!' Molly called, and her family were gone.

Alex went straight to her best friend, a green bottle; one green bottle, two green bottles, she usually passed out after that. Her sleep was dreamless and gave her rest. It was the waking hours that troubled her.

It was hard to appear sane and now her job was at risk. She had tried to get help for so long but nothing worked. Psychologists, psychiatrists, counsellors. But when it came down to it no-one could believe her, and why would they?

Their faces; they were the only thing that made her laugh. Seeing their expressions change. I was shot and ended up in the eighties with a DCI called Gene Hunt; I was just like Sam Tyler. Heard of him? He jumped off a building. Needed to go back.

As if that wasn't impossible enough to believe, she would then go on, sounding even more demented; I was supposed to die; I was dead. But Gene Hunt made a deal with the devil for me. To save me. To let me come back here to the future. The devil's name was Keats.

She didn't blame anyone for not believing her. She found it hard to believe it herself sometimes as time passed and memory blurred; but then she would see a classic car rally passing through; a red Quattro, and she would look for him.

She tried everything to push him from her mind. Had he forgotten her? Of course he had. He gave her life like he was some kind of god and she was squandering it.

She moved into a tiny house in a bad part of town; dirty, noisy, the neighbours fought, sometimes there were riots outside in the street. Her nickname was The Death Wish DI. She didn't care while she was apart from him. She kept worrying about the deal he had done with Keats. She didn't know what it was but she knew it must cause him pain and she couldn't bear it.

She needed to go back, and it was better for everyone that way. At least she'd know.

.

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'Do not approach the suspect' her radio crackled, 'He's armed and extremely dangerous!'

Just what she needed; she approached him, walking into his line of fire with a smile on her face.

'Move - bitch!' the gunman screeched.

She carried on walking, watching the bullet speeding towards her.

oxxo

She woke up in her old flat. A stroke of luck she thought. Nothing had moved or changed in the years she had been gone. There were no cobwebs or signs of anything different. Someone kept this flat as a shrine.

She smiled, she was back and she could tell him now. All the stuff she had held in her head was going to come out. She would say how much she loved him and there was nothing that could keep them apart.

Luigi's was shut down. She frowned; things hadn't stayed quite the same then. She carried on to the station, nervously smoothing down her clothes; what year was it? She checked a newspaper stand - July1986- Royal Wedding fever- Sarah marrying Andrew.

She reached the station- heart thumping, jellified legs, smoothing down her clothes just one more time.

She walked past the front desk full of strangers and on to CID. The room was still predominately male but she noticed a couple of women officers; one very plain and manly, the other feminine and large breasted.

Her heart almost beat out of her chest as she saw his office. His name on the door.

Then the door opened and the breath was forced from her body as she waited for him to appear. A woman stepped out. Long dark hair, clothes not unlike those she had worn when she first arrived. Alex stepped back into the shadows. Watching from a corner where she could see but couldn't be seen.

'You won't be late?' the woman asked, holding out her arms. 'I got us a babysitter.'

Gene appeared, holding a toddler who was trying to pinch his nose. 'Ok' he sounded upbeat, 'Six at the latest' he handed the toddler to the woman.

'Say goodbye to daddy.' she said.

'Bye Christopher.' Gene said.

'Guggle' the toddler laughed.

'Yes definitely guggle.' Gene replied.

The woman stepped forward, swivelling the child onto her hip and kissing Gene on the mouth.

No-one in CID even blinked.

Alex managed to force her legs to carry her into the kitchenette, sitting on the same old chair she had sat on hundreds of times before.

'You alright?' it was the plain Jane woman.

'Sorry' Alex stuttered, 'I used to work here and I felt a bit faint' she breathed in, 'Glass of water?'

'Of course' the woman filled a glass and passed it to her.

'Thanks' Alex managed.

'You're shaking.' the woman said.

'Alcoholic' Alex explained.

'Oh' the woman seemed shocked at her honesty.

When she felt she could stand she got up to go. Where to she wondered? Back to the flat she guessed, she could hide away. It had been waiting for her, if nothing or no-one else had.

As she reached the door of the incident room Gene came out of his office. She turned and looked at him. He looked back at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

'Can I help you?' he asked, there was not the slightest glimmer of recognition.

'I worked here once.' she gasped.

'Before my time I guess.' he replied.

She stared at him, willing his face to crack- for him to say;

'Fooled you then eh ya dozy mare- you really thought I'd forget a pain in the derriere DI like you?' but his reaction was the worst it could possibly be, a polite but vacant smile.

'Not really' she mumbled inaudibly, somehow managing to wrench the door open.

She reached the outside of the station, crumpling up as if in pain and gagging for breath; when she looked up again Keats was standing there in front of her.

'Best deal I ever made.' he sounded so innocent and kind. 'He hasn't got a clue who you are has he? He thinks he's happy. He'll only remember when it's too late. I love it!'

'You utter bastard' she wept.

'I can do you a deal too' he whispered, 'Anytime, you only have to ask.'

'Go to hell!' she said.

'Alright' he replied, turning on his heel.

oxxo