Ok, I PROMISED myself that I wouldn't write another fic until I'd finished A New Start but I have major writer's block and this was too tempting! And this gives me opportunity to totally geek out on David Bowie singles.

-Giggle-

This is set in-between series one and two because I miss Alex and her permed hair Dx Sorry for any spelling mistakes!

A block of dingy council flats stood in front of Gene Hunt, like a cocky piss-head that was begging for a fight. It seemed to in blend well with the dull melancholy grey of sky, if it wasn't the endless scribbles of yellow-ish graffiti that adorned the front wall then he would probably have missed it at first. It was, in Gene's opinion, a shit hole. He heard the door slam and he turned to his DI, taking in the scowl on her face.

"Told ya not to drink that last bottle o' wine, Bolls."

"I'm not hung-over; I just don't see why we have to tag along to a routine drug s bust." Alex pulled her jacket around herself and shivered.

"'Cause yer yet to sample the unique paradise that is the Hammel Hill flats, DI Sulky-Knickers." He put his hands in his coat pockets and strode away from her. "Come on, crack-heads don't arrest themselves, yer know!"

Ray and the others were most likely to have already beaten up the meth snorting scum and sent them on their way to the nick but Gene wanted to inspect as much of the flat as possible. Scum does breed scum, after all. He predicted that, if they were lucky enough, they'd have several more dealers in the cells by dinner time. Hammel Hill was famous for that sort of thing.

The door to the lobby was almost off its hinges and the room had that special odour that reminded him of the colour brown. This wasn't like those clean, posh rooms you see on the movies, with a doorman and a desk clerk with a side parting and a clean smell. For a start, there was no desk, or any sort of place where a person who might know a thing or two about the bloody place would be. It was just a small room with a table, a chair, a lift and a door.

And many of those other lobbies didn't happen to have a teenage girl shuffling a pack of cards in the corner, either. The girl, fifteen years of age Gene guessed, was sat cross legged on the grimy floor boards. He would of thought she was a boy due to her shortly cut blonde hair and her flat chest if it was not for the silver F she wore on a chain around her neck. And no boy would ever wear a necklace like that, no matter how poncey he may be.

See, even he could do this deduction shit.

"Yer mates went up to 409, sir." She said, not taking her eyes off the pack.

But before Gene could grunt out a 'Thanks' Alex stepped in with her usual brash nosiness.

"Excuse me, what's your name?"

"Frankie, miss."

"Why aren't you at school, Frankie?"

Frankie looked up, she wasn't dressed for school. Her legs were clothed in some scruffy jeans that had been shredded within an inch of their lives and she'd thrown an equally scruffy sleeveless denim jacket over a chequered t-shirt.

"Expelled, miss. Teachers don't like it when yer 'it 'em." She returned to her cards.

Alex turned to him and he shrugged what else could they do? They turned to go to the lift but not before they heard Frankie call over her shoulder, "Lift's broken, sir."

Shit.

"Oh well, guv." He heard Alex sigh, "Looks like we'll have to do some exercise."

"Then you better get in front o' me, Bolly,'s a long way up without owt to feat me eyes on." She rolled her eyes at him and opened the battered glass door next to the lift which led them to an endless flight of stone steps.

Alex looked up at them and let out a whistle before turning to Gene, her eyes sparkling, "Race you?"

"Piss off, 'm not six anymore. Now mush, I weren't kiddin' about you going first."

By the time they had gotten to the fourth floor, Alex's legs were screaming in pain at her. She exited the stairs and passed through another battered door, closely followed by Gene, to the long corridor that was home to room 409. She spied Ray standing by an open door with Chris and they both waved her over.

"One o' the plods saw the open door 'n' checked to see if there were owt wrong." Ray took a long drag of his cigarette, "Put me off spag bol for life, that has." Gene side stepped in front of her and opened the door wider; she took a step inside, hesitantly looking over at her DCI.

The room had been ransacked, papers had been thrown on the floor, sets of drawers had been tipped over and a cupboard door had been ripped away and had ended up in the smashed screen of the TV. In the middle of all this, was a dead body. Her face had been cut open several times and Alex could barely make out where her eyes were. She'd been stabbed in the neck twice and had been laid out on her back, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that were glazed over with blood.

Ray was right, it did resemble spaghetti bolognaise.

"Right!" Gene barked, "Ray, Chris! I want you to ask round, see if anyone 'ere saw owt, though I doubt them lot'd want ter talk ter a copper. And Lady B-" Gene turned to Alex. "Oi, Bolls!"

But Alex was too busy staring through the open door in the living room, the door that led to a small hallway, a hallway that led to a bedroom. From what she could see, the walls were painted a nicotine stained white and had been plastered with posters of music artists. In the corner of the room, directly opposite the door, was a small bed. A bed with thin blankets and several stuffed toys.

"We need to find this woman's child." She spoke up, interrupting Gene.

"Shit. We'll ask around and see where the kid goes to school.

Alex gave one slow nod, already feeling sorry for a child she had yet to turned on her heel and walked out, passing Ray who was comparing the victim's face to Lugi's pizza to Chris. She'd ask the people next door, despite a voice in her head telling her that if they had heard something, they would have come forward earlier, or at least called the police.

"Oi!" She turned, looking towards the voice. It was Frankie, the teenager they had met earlier; she was at the end of the corridor and was making her way to Alex. "Oi! What you doin'?"

Alex gave her a polite smile, "Something else had cropped up, and we'll be staying a little-"

"Well I can see that, can't I? I just wanna know why you and your lot are sniffing about around my bloody 'ome!" She attempted to walk past her, but Alex put a hand on her arm.

"You live there?"

"Course I do."

"Why don't you come to the station with us and-" She saw Frankie's eyes widen and before she could stop her, she had shoved Alex, ran past her and through the open door.

"Frankie, wait!"

That woman had been easy to get past, just a quick jab to the ribs, really. And the other two plods, well, they weren't exactly alert, Frankie nearly managed to knock the one with the blond hair down completely, the other one, however, put up a fight. This one was taller and more heavily built, though Frankie was distracted by the hairy caterpillar which had taken over his top lip. That and the fact that he'd managed to grab her by the shoulders.

"Where do you think your-" With her free arm, she curled her hand into a fist and swung a punch at him. It found its way to his nose and he realised her, reciting several swear words as he tried to recapture her again. But Frankie didn't stick around; she took a few more steps, right into the living room, right to-

Oh.

Fucking oh.

It was her mam. She was on the floor.

She'd cut her face and her neck. She'd looked liked she'd been kicked about a bit. Her own daughter couldn't even make out her face. There was blood, well, everywhere. It was smeared on Mam's arms and...Fucking everywhere. It couldn't be Mam...Couldn't be. She'd seen her this morning! She was alive this morning, she still was alive! She couldn't die! She was knocked out cold or something, right?

The floor was suddenly under her knees and her hands were resting on the carpet, her fingers were digging into the fibres. Oh bloody hell, she was crying. She had tears down her cheeks now; she was making a right racket. If her mam was still breathing, she would have given her a tissue, told her not to cry over something to trivial and taken her to the shops. She always did that when Frankie got angry or upset, they'd put on their coats and go down to the off-licence to get two cans of pop and a bag of sweets each. She was good at distracting her like that.

"Come on, luv, let's get you up." A distant voice said. It was warm, empathetic. The owner of the voice touched her shoulder, she spun around and lashed out, scraping her nails across the hand that didn't have time to retreat.

She didn't have time for fucking empathy, her mam was dead.

She lifted her head to the owner of the voice; her whole body was shaking, "My mam's got stabbed in the face and your asking me to get up?" She spat at him, it was a man, tall, blond, looking at her with shock in his blue eyes. "Well I've got news for you Grandad! I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE!"

The man moved quickly this time. He'd already had his long coat off, ready to give to her, so he threw it over her shoulders and lifted her up. She kicked and screamed while he carried her out of her home.

The kid, Frankie, was sitting in the back seat of the Quattro now; she had turned to the side and was hanging her legs out of the open door while the side of her head rested against chair. She'd wrapped Gene's coat around herself tightly and showed no signs of giving it back to him. He was leant against the car with Alex; they'd given up trying to talk to her right now. Her eyes stared a head, un-blinking and dull. Her eyes were the colour of her faded jeans and they showed no life in them.

"Take me to the god damn station then." She finally spoke up, without looking at them, "I need a cup of tea."

'She had an horror of rooms she was tired you can't hide beat
When I looked in her eyes they were blue but nobody home
Well she could've been a killer if she didn't walk the way she do, and she do
She opened strange doors that we'd never close again'