A/N: Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos and Monastic own Ashes to Ashes.

Hiya, all! Sorry for the terribly long break since my last story. After publishing "Memory" in July, I developed eyesight problems which stopped me using a PC for some time. Then last month, when I was ready to start publishing this story, my laptop's operating system committed suicide and it took weeks to repair it, retrieve the files, and reinstall the programs. Many thanks to those of you who have encouraged me during the past five months, especially Katie Duggan's Niece, Solo Lady, and MissLP.

Anyway, here AT LAST is the long-promised sequel to "The Return". When I wrote "The Return" I intended it as a oneshot, but so many people asked me to write more that I decided to try, and here is the result. I've given it this title because the trailer to Series 3, Episode 8 described it as "the end of an era". As "The Return" takes Alex back to Fenchurch East, and ends with the words "THE BEGINNING", it seemed right to me that its sequel, dealing with the adventures of Gene, Alex and their new team (including the New Arrival, here called Jason Collins) should begin another era. This is a work in progress – I've written several chapters, but there's loads more to do. If I get to write all the story I have in my head, this could turn out to be quite an epic. I can't promise to update regularly, as it'll all depend on how much time I get for writing (I have a string of music reviews coming up), but I'll do my best.

As always, any reviews would be very much appreciated, and I always reply!

The story starts exactly where "The Return" finishes...

On the way to Archer Lane, Gene's radio crackled into life.

"Paul here, Sir. Update on the situation at Archer Lane."

He grabbed the radio, continuing to steer with his other hand as they rounded a corner on a wheel and a half. The other occupants of the car were used to it, but Collins wailed, "That's against the law!"

"Shut up," Terry muttered, and on his other side Poirot jabbed him in the ribs.

"Spit it out, Skip," Gene barked into the radio.

"Blag's become a hostage situation, Sir. It's at a bookie's with a rented flat above. Uniform responded to the 999 call and tried to effect an arrest, but the blaggers escaped upstairs and are holding the residents. Mother and three children of pre-school age."

"Oh, deep joy."

"Uniform have cleared the street, and an armed response unit is on the way. An ambulance is on standby in case of casualties. The blaggers are firing out of the windows and threatening to shoot their hostages unless they're allowed to leave with the takings from the shop."

"Do we know 'ow many blaggers there are?"

"Witnesses in the bookies said four. No IDs yet."

"Who's allegedly in charge there?"

"Sergeant Simpson, Sir."

"Not surprised it's escalated. He couldn't negotiate 'is way out of 'is own boxers. We'll be there in two minutes. Out." He threw the radio onto the dashboard. "Let that be a lesson to you, lady an' gentlemen. Never let plod get in your way. They'll only arse it up. Bolly, looks like we'll be requiring your silver-tongued negotiating skills."

"Right, Guv. Good job I'm back, then," Alex said archly.

"Terry an' Poirot, you'll give 'er cover. Just because she's an unarmed negotiator, doesn't mean they mightn't try an' put daylight in 'er. Collins, we'll try an' get in round the back while she keeps 'em talking."

Collins went paler than his jacket. "Shouldn't we carry out a health and safety assessment first, Sir?"

"Oh-oh," Alex murmured. "Big mistake."

"The only assessment I'm carrying out is whether to cut off just their arms, or their arms, their legs an' their dicks."

"But that's police brutality!" Collins squeaked. "It would get you suspended!"

"If they're very lucky, I'll suspend 'em by their ankles," Gene said darkly. "If not, it'll be by their bollocks. Guns out, gentlemen, we're 'ere."

The much-tried Cortina squealed to a halt and they jumped out, except for Collins, who wailed, "But I haven't got a gun! I haven't had any firearms training!"

"Bloody 'ell, is there anything you can do, 'cept complain?"

"I want to wake up! I want to go home!"

Alex hauled him out of the car, took him by the shoulders, and shook him hard. "Jason. Right now, you are here, and the lives of civilians, including children, may depend upon you, so do as the Guv tells you. Remember, being where the Guv is, is the right place to be."

"DRAKE! When you've quite finished changing young Jason's nappy!"

"Yes, Guv." She ran to join Gene, and Collins dazedly followed. Uniform had set up road blocks at either end of the Lane, using squad cars, and all other buildings in the street had been evacuated. About a dozen uniformed officers were keeping the public away. Terry and Poirot were already in position, crouched behind a squad car, guns trained on the windows of the flat above the betting shop.

"Hold your fire," Alex said softly to them. "We don't know the situation in there yet." Both nodded. She was just about to step past the road block, when a gunshot rang out and a bullet whizzed past her ear. Gene shoved her to the ground, shielding her with his body. Collins was already there: he was nearly fainting with terror.

"Hunt! Keep back, and tell your tart and your goons to keep back!"

"Bugger." Gene risked looking up. "Harry Kempster. His brothers must be in there with 'im."

"Don, Ken and Mick. That would make four blaggers, just as the witnesses said." Alex's voice was muffled beneath Gene's bulk. "Get off me. I have to talk to him."

Gene rolled off Alex. "You don't talk to scum like 'im!"

"Oh, yeah?" Alex was still on the ground. "What'll you do, then? Go in shooting? Because then the Kempsters might kill the hostages."

"That's if 'e doesn't asphyxiate 'em first."

Before Gene could object, Alex stood, motioning to the others to stay down. "Harry? Harry. I'm DI Alex Drake."

"I know who you are, luscious. Can't resist my charms, can you?" An unkempt, dirty, unshaven face leered from an open window. She could almost smell his fetid breath from where she was standing. He wasn't called Halitosis Harry for nothing.

"Harry, I'm unarmed. Can we talk?"

"Depends what you want to talk about."

"I'm trained in hostage negotiation. This goes at your own speed and in your own time. If there is anything you need, please just let us know."

"I'll tell you what I need!" He turned and called over his shoulder. "Don! Give me that kid! No - that one!" There was a shrill, childish scream and a wail, and he turned back to the window with a little girl in his arms. She was aged about three or four, with mousey blonde hair. "I want you and all your friends to get out of here - NOW!" He heaved the girl through the window and sat her on the ledge. Behind him, a woman cried out, a man's voice bellowed "Shut up!", and they heard the sound of a slap and someone falling.

"BASTARDS!" Gene bellowed. "Let them go! If you so much as harm a hair on their heads I'll kill you!"

"Don't you dare!" Collins shouted, his eyes blazing. He seemed transformed. "Let her alone!"

Normally Alex would have been the voice of reason. Abruptly, Gene was aware that he was waiting for her to calm him down, to tell him to stop. But she seemed to freeze, and every scrap of colour drained from her already pale face. It was as though the worst moment of her life had suddenly returned to haunt her.

"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! THERE'S A CHILD! HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

Gene shuddered involuntarily, and grabbed her arm. "Don't you dare spook on me, Drake! Pull yourself together, pronto tonto, or so 'elp me I'll burn your knickers in front of the station with you in 'em!" Alex, shaking and breathing hard, seemed incapable of speech.

"Shut up! All of you!" Harry cuffed the side of the little girl's head, and her wails subsided into terrified sobs. "I need you lot to clear out and let us go. If you don't, I'll push her - NOW!"

Alex found her voice. "Get back. All of you, get back beyond the end of the street. Leave me to talk to him."

"An' leave you 'ere?"

"I'll keep him talking, distract him," she said in a rapid undertone. "Find another way in." Aloud, she added, "Take everyone with you."

Gene nodded. Without looking down, he muttered, "Poirot, stay. Guard." The rotund copper, still crouched at Alex's feet like a shaggy, faithful hound, his gun trained on the window, nodded his understanding. From the window, he could not be seen behind the squad car.

"NOW!" Harry screamed, seizing the little girl's arm.

"Right." Gene stood, holstering his gun, instantly authoritative. "Back off, all of you. Out of sight. Drake, stay 'ere an' try an' talk some sense into 'im." He raised his arms and motioned to the others to retreat. He felt sick at heart at having to leave Alex, unarmed, to face Harry, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. She was the only person who might be able to calm the situation now. Poirot was a crack shot, and he would protect her.

They had retreated around the corner into Fairlie Street before Gene realised that he was a man short. "Where the hell's Collins?"

"Don't know, Sir." Terry shook his head apologetically. "I thought he was following us."

"Can't go back for 'im now. If Harry sees us, 'e could fire at Drake or the hostages. Daft twonk'll 'ave to stay wherever 'e is. If we're really lucky, maybe Harry'll shoot 'im. Or breathe at 'im."

A uniformed officer approached them with a small, doughnut-shaped lady. "Report on the situation at the back of the property, Sir. All properties in the block have been cleared and road blocks have been set up on all four sides, that's Fairlie Street, Brook Street and Castle Place. There's a gunman on the fire escape at the back of the property."

"Any ID?"

"It looks like Ken Kempster, Sir."

"It figures. Sentry-go's the only job he's bright enough to do."

"Mrs Heston here runs the sweet shop in Brook Street. Her property backs onto the crime scene. We've got PC Wason keeping a watch from her upstairs window. She says that you can get in through her back yard."

At that moment an armed response vehicle arrived with a squeal of brakes and disgorged a dozen officers, all armed to the teeth. Their leader approached Gene.

"Sergeant Mayhew, Sir."

"Right, listen up. We've got four armed men in the flat above 84 Archer Lane. One's at the front window, one at the back, the other two are probably keepin' an eye on the hostages. Woman an' three young children. I want your men positioned at either end of Archer Lane an' at rear windows in Fairlie Street an' Brook Street, where they can observe the gunmen. No shots to be fired yet. I've got a negotiator tryin' to talk 'em down. Harry's feelin' trigger 'appy an' it doesn't take much to upset Kenny-boy. All 'is brains are in 'is muscles. Terry an' I'll try an' get in through the back."

"Better wait until my men are in position, then, Sir. They can give you cover."

"Yes, but they must only fire as a last resort. If anything 'appens to make Ken shoot, the other three'll go for the 'ostages. We need to take 'im out quietly."

Mrs Heston spoke up. "He won't be able to see you from my back yard, sir. I have a high board fence to provide a shady area to keep the spare freezer for ice creams in summer. There's a loose plank. You can move it aside to get into the garden behind the bookies'. It's all overgrown, he may not see you there."

"We need to create a diversion, Sir," Sergeant Mayhew suggested. "Something to take his attention elsewhere while you get in."

"Yeah, I went to school, I know what a diversion is, ta," Gene grumbled. A tabby kitten appeared from nowhere and rubbed affectionately against his ankles. "Gerroff!"

"Bad pussy!" Mrs Heston made a dive for it. "I'm sorry, sir, it's one of a litter that's been abandoned by a stray who used to bed down in Mrs Jessop's garden. They're always around the neighbourhood, cadging food."

Gene looked at it, and a gleam appeared in the corner of his eye. "Puss in boots. Fancy 'elping the police? There might be a tin of Whiskas in it for you."

-oO0Oo-

Alex faced Harry, apparently alone. She was aware of a second person besides Poirot crouched at her feet, but had the sense not to look down.

"They've gone, Harry. Just as you asked."

"So, why are you still here? I said everyone was to go."

"I'm staying as a negotiator. I can't harm you. I have no weapons and no radio. Please listen to me for a minute, Harry."

"Why?"

"You must realise that if you hurt any of your hostages and you are then caught, your sentence would be far longer than it would be, simply for raiding a bookie's. Let them go now."

"Why?"

"A mother and her children. They're terrified. They haven't done you any harm. At least consider letting the children go."

"I'll tell you what I'm considering. I've got four bargaining chips 'ere. This is just the first one." He took a swing at the sobbing child, who was clinging for dear life to a drainpipe. "So this one's expendable. I can push 'er off the ledge to show you I mean business, and I've still got two more, and their Mum, to push over after that, if you don't clear off!"

"I understand, Harry." Alex strove to keep her voice level. "You feel trapped. I help people who are trapped. I help them to find an escape route."

"The only escape route I want right now is out of this stinking hole! Or she goes over!"

"And if you were allowed to leave, would you let your hostages go?" Alex prayed that Gene was finding a way in. Letting the Kempsters go was unthinkable, but it would be preferable to having a child killed before their eyes.

Harry laughed. "Think I don't know that you and your friends wouldn't be after us, as soon as we leave? They come with us. Every time we see a filth car behind us, another gets shot in the head and chucked out of our van!"

"A mother and three young children? How will you ever be able to keep them in order? They'll be too frightened to obey you."

Harry grinned evilly. "I'll take that chance."

"There's an alternative. I'm not asking you to give up your hostages. I know that's important to you. But - "

"Tell you what, sweetie. I'll let 'em go if you come with us. None of your friends following us. We'll let you go when we want. You'll 'ave to take the risk that, before we do, the four of us could have some fun with you. We could be the first crims to shag a cop bird. The choice is yours, sexy cheeks. Them - or you."

Alex had gone as pale as a sheet, but mustered herself to answer.

"NO!" A third voice rang out, and Collins jumped to his feet in front of Alex, nearly knocking her off balance.

"Keep down, you daft bastard," Poirot muttered, too late.

"Who the hell are you?" Harry shouted. "I said everyone was to get back! You've betrayed me, Drake!"

Alex hoped that she looked surprised enough. "Wh-where did you spring from, Jason? You must have been hiding under the car. I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't know he was here - "

Collins smiled confidently at Harry. "It's all right, I'm on work experience. I'm unarmed and quite, quite harmless."

"Dunno about that," Poirot grumbled, and Alex kicked him discreetly.

"Take me as hostage instead of her," Collins continued briskly.

"What?" Alex and Harry exploded together.

"Why the hell should I take you when I could have her?" Harry demanded. "Drake, you shift your arse over here, or she gets it!" He stretched his arm out to the little girl, who had wriggled out of reach further along the ledge. Alex, her mind made up, stepped forward, but Collins barred her way.

"Because Hunt won't trust a woman to look after herself. He'll trust me."

"Like hell he will!" Alex hissed at him.

"I can guarantee that nobody will pursue you if I'm with you, and I'll stay with you for as long as you want," Collins continued. "Consider, Harry - if you and your brothers stop for some fun, as you call it, it could lead to your being surrounded, perhaps a shoot-out. Could be nasty. Much better that you make a clean getaway with a co-operative hostage."

"Whose side are you on?" Harry said suspiciously. Alex and Poirot were thinking much the same thing, but Alex noticed approvingly that Collins's intervention had prolonged the dialogue and attracted Harry's interest. The longer they could keep this up and divert his attention from his hostages, the greater the chance that Gene and Terry might find a way in.

"I'm a police officer," Collins said firmly. "But I believe that it's possible to resolve a situation without violence. Which is why you should let your hostages go and take me with you."

Harry looked at him very hard. Collins smiled brightly at him, looking as innocent and gormless as Frank Spencer. Everyone held their breath.

"All right," he said at last. "You for them. But if you try anything, your friends'll be looking for you in pieces. Got that?"

"Got that. What do you want me to do?"

Harry called over his shoulder. "Don! Go down and unlock the street door, and bring him up!" He turned back to Collins. "Go to the door. Number 84A, the white one to the right of the bookies'. My brother'll open it, and he'll have a gun. You come up with him. You so much as breathe out of turn and he'll be a cop killer."

"Understood." Collins was very serious and still. "When will you let them go?"

"After we've got you. Not before."

Collins nodded. "Right."

Alex had been watching, aghast. As Collins made to move, she seized his arm.

"Jason, for God's sake! You can't do this!"

He looked back at her. "Oh, yes, I can and will."

"I can't let you! The Guv would never allow it."

"You don't outrank me, DI Drake, so I don't have to follow your orders. The Guv isn't here, but he's relying on us to use our initiative to keep the situation under control, which is what I'm doing."

"I'm a trained hostage negotiator. Are you?"

Collins shook his head. "No, but I know that I can't let a woman go in there."

"God, you're even more of a sexist than he is!"

"This isn't sexism, it's good old-fashioned chivalry. God knows what might happen to you in there. The worst they can do to me, is to kill me. They could do a lot worse to you, before they killed you."

"Are you 'aving second thoughts or what, Sonny boy?" Harry's voice broke in impatiently. "Time's up. One of you come in, or she goes over. Make your minds up!"

"Coming," Jason called apologetically. He looked back at Alex, who reluctantly released his arm. He smiled reassuringly. "It's all right," he murmured confidentially. "I know this is only a dream. I've always wanted to be a hero, and now I've got the chance when I can't be hurt. Don't worry, I have a cunning plan."

"Jason!"

But he had already walked away.

"Want me to take out Don when he opens the door, Ma'am?" Poirot's voice, at her feet, broke across her troubled thoughts. She made a small, negative gesture with her hand.

"No," she answered quietly. "They still have the hostages." As she spoke, the door opened and Jason went in. Alex watched with a sinking heart. She dreaded that they might lose their latest recruit on his first day, and she could not begin to imagine what Gene would say.

Without turning her head, she glanced along the street and saw that a fire engine had arrived and that they had a jump sheet ready for the little girl. She wondered whether it would be needed. There was no way of knowing how Collins's presence inside might change the situation. He might be trusting the Kempsters to let the hostages go in exchange for him, but she didn't.

-oO0Oo-

With the kitten in her arms, Mrs Heston escorted Gene and Terry through her store room, full of cartons of Mars bars and Curly Wurlys and jars of gob stoppers. Gene grabbed his radio. "PC Wason? Hunt here. What's our gunman doing?"

"Watching all the back lots on both sides. There's no movement, as all the houses have been evacuated. He might get bored soon."

"Right, time to liven 'im up a bit. Mayhew, where are your boys?"

"All in position, Sir, and under orders not to fire except to save life."

"Roger that." He pocketed his radio and nodded to Mrs Heston, who unlocked her back door. "Just tell me which the loose board is, love, an' then get the 'ell out. We'll take it from 'ere."

Mrs Heston stood her ground. "You'll need me to hold the kitten, sir. He knows me, and he's placid with me. If either of you tries to hold him, he could turn into a fireball."

"Okay. But you'll stay your own side of the fence, an' you'll get out as soon as we've let the cat go. Otherwise we've got you to worry about as well as the hostages."

She nodded, and Gene drew his gun and very cautiously pushed the door open. All was quiet. They stole cautiously across the yard, and Mrs Heston pointed to a board in the fence which was loose at the bottom. Terry lifted it a few inches and Mrs Heston inserted the kitten through the gap. Gene nodded, and she made herself scarce while the two men listened at the fence. At first, there was nothing. Gene peered through a knot-hole in the wood, but could only see tall grass and shrubs. Then they both heard a rough voice, high with nervousness.

"Who's there?"

Silence.

"If you're Old Bill, I'll blow your 'ead off!"

The two men could just make out the sound of the kitten, ambling lazily through the overgrown garden. They could imagine the effect upon the nervous Ken. Gene held his breath. If Ken didn't come down to investigate, they could be in trouble.

Silence. More feline rustlings.

Gene cautiously lifted the loose board and crawled through the gap. Terry followed. They crouched amid the tangled vegetation.

"Don!"

Shit. The idea was to take Ken out, not bring Don into it.

"Don's not 'ere." They recognised Harry's voice. "He's bringing the filth up. What do you want?"

Bringing the filth up. Does that mean Bolly's charmed herself in there in exchange for the hostages? And where's Collins buggered off to?

"There's someone down there!"

Gene and Terry were absolutely still.

"Shoot 'em then! That's what I gave you a gun for!"

"Can't see 'em..." Ken whimpered, but received no reply. Gene guessed that Harry's attention had been distracted by something inside or in front of the building.

There was a short silence, then they heard the sound of Ken stomping down the metal stairs, plainly hoping to terrify his unseen adversary with a show of strength. Knowing that his noise would cover any sound they made, Gene and Terry inched through the undergrowth until they could see the fire escape, an old-fashioned, zig-zagging metal stairway. Ken stood at the foot of the stairs, brandishing his gun and looking terrified. Gene stole around the edge of the small clearing at the foot of the fire escape and crept up on the unsuspecting Ken from behind. Terry was about to make a noise to distract Ken's attention when, right on cue, the kitten meowed, strolled into view, sat down, and started to wash itself.

Ken heaved a long sigh of relief. A leather-gloved hand snaked out and wrapped itself around his mouth, and Gene spun him around and punched him on the jaw. He went down without a sound.

Terry pointed to the back door on the ground floor level. It was closed, and did not give when Gene cautiously tried it. It had no visible lock, so he guessed that it was fastened from the inside. Much though he longed to kick it down, he resisted the temptation. It would alert Harry, Mick and Don to his presence, long before he would have any chance of reaching the hostages. Terry fished a massive Swiss army knife from his pocket - twat - and handed it to Gene, who carefully inserted the blade into the gap between the door and doorframe and lifted it. The door swung inward, and he grinned in triumph. It had only been fastened by a simple slip catch. He motioned to Terry to go inside, and crept up the fire escape. They did not know how long they would have before Ken was missed. Gene prayed that Alex had not exchanged herself for the family. The prospect of facing another hostage taker, holding her at gunpoint, would be a nightmare come true.

TBC